


Distant Roads

by phantasy_legacy



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Asexual Character, Asexual Phil Lester, Depression, I'm not even kidding, Insecurity, Introspection, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Depression, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, as in, don't expect anything to happen for like twenty chapters at least, this is the slowest burn to ever burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-05-17 22:31:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 65,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14840405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantasy_legacy/pseuds/phantasy_legacy
Summary: Phil is about to enter is last year at university and he can almost taste the freedom. First, however, he has to survive living with his best friend who seems to be vanishing (painfully) from his life, the ever-growing pile of schoolwork dogging his every step, and a certain brown haired boy who's presence in his life might be the only thing keeping Phil sane.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: A few things to clear up here: I am American who went to an American small-town college. I did my best trying to figure out the UK school system, but if I got anything wrong, please let me know. Also, there will be a lot of American college influences on this story, mostly because a lot of this story is based off of experiences I myself and those I knew had at my college. Feel free to point them out and I might change them unless I can’t figure out a way without rewriting entire chunks. Thank you!
> 
> Also, this is a work of fiction. In no way am I implying anything about Dan and Phil’s private lives. I am using their public personas and some details they have offered us to write these characters and I mean in no way to say that any of this is true. They are their own people.
> 
> Title is from A Ship in Port by Radical Face

**_Phil 10:34 AM_ **  
_10 min away!! :D_

Phil glanced between his phone’s screen and the road in front of him. His car crawled towards the campus as students wandered across the street, huddled in groups as they caught up with one another’s lives or gawped at the city around them.

He stopped in front of an intersection, letting his car idle as a large knot of students—freshers, Phil guessed, their eyes wide and movements jerky with nervous excitement—wandered in front of his car. Phil tapped away from the conversation and checked his email, though nothing new was in.

Once the students passed, Phil clicked his phone dark and concentrated to getting to his new flat safely.

The drive so far had been semi-familiar. While off-campus, the flats Marcus and Curtis chose were close enough that Phil wouldn't need to drive to get to his classes. As such, he could see the halls he used to live in while a fresher himself in the distance and the tops of the university center through the buildings around him.

“C’mon,” Marcus had said before Phil’s last exam as they huddled in Phil’s room, nudging Phil’s arm. The light of the computer screen illuminated their faces. “Curtis really doesn't want crappy roomies like last year, and it's a decent price, y’know?”

Phil had sighed out an “Okay,” and that was that. 

They didn't live in the flats Phil had wanted which, though smaller, were even closer to the campus and had much better upkeep. The downside for Marcus was that they only had two bedrooms, which meant Curtis wouldn’t be able to live with them. Phil had eventually caved to Marcus’s pleading.

Now he had to deal with two other flatmates. Phil wasn’t sure how much he was going to enjoy living here with them. He had never liked living with strangers.

He guided his car into the car park, scanning for an open spot. Despite himself, he kept glancing at his phone to see if Marcus had responded yet. He had only seen Marcus a few times over the summer since Marcus had elected to stay back in York to work over the summer, and Phil hoped he and Marcus could maybe grab dinner and catch up.

Once he found a spot and parked, he pulled his phone over to himself and checked for text messages.

He felt a pang of excitement when he saw that Marcus had replied.

**_Marcus 10:41 AM_ **  
_Can't I'm hanging out with Curtis &Erika rn._

Phil blinked and the excited feeling ballooning in his chest popped. Then his brow furrowed. They'd planned to meet up, hadn't they? Unofficially, mind, but they always met up to help one another unpack and settle before going and getting dinner. For Marcus to be too busy to at least come say hi was a first.

He'd probably just forgotten, Phil told himself. After all, they usually came up together at the same time. Phil would drive, Marcus next to him, catching up, talking, and laughing with one another as music played from Phil’s speakers. Their stuff would be crammed in the back, forcing Phil to look out his wing mirrors, and Phil would feel ready, feel excited about going back to university. With Marcus at his side, Phil felt like he could tackle anything.

So, yeah, since Marcus had stayed behind in York for the whole summer, he and Phil didn’t have their little tradition to remind them to help each other. That was fine. It was fine for Marcus to forget.

So, with that in mind, Phil replied:

**_Phil 10:42 AM_ **  
_Ok! see u later :)_

He felt his stomach sink but ignored it. It was fine. Marcus was enjoying his last day of summer with his group of friends and Phil wasn't going to bring him down. 

Still, Phil thought as he looked at his packed car through his rearview mirror, it would have been nice having someone help him move his stuff. 

He climbed out of the car and looked over at the flats he would be staying in for the foreseeable future. 

They weren’t the tallest he’d ever seen. Only seven stories high with a pale grey exterior that looked just as dull and depressing as he’d expected. Most of the windows were dark as it was a rare sunny day, but Phil could just make out personal things like potted plants, lamps, and even posters through the glass, hinting at the lives and the personalities within the walls. 

Phil closed his door and opened the back seat, pulling out his backpack, his keys to the flats Marcus had mailed to him a few weeks before, and his laptop bag. Then, lugging everything with him, he hurried into the flats. 

While Phil knew he wasn't the only one moving in, he felt self conscious bringing his stuff to the flat. What if people saw him and thought _wow, the guy must be a hoarder, he sure has a lot of stuff._ What if they laughed, saying, _does one person really need all that junk?_

Those might be fair assessments, as Phil had a lot of knick-knacks and books, but it simply didn't feel like his space without his stuff. He hunched his shoulders in and did his best to push the feeling away. 

Marcus and Curtis hadn't wanted to walk up stairs, so their flat was on the ground floor. There would also be another roommate, too, though none of them had met him yet. Phil wasn’t even sure what his name was, but he hoped they were nice and didn’t smoke in the rooms. 

When Phil entered the flat, it was achingly silent. He nervously swept his black hair to the side, casting about his gaze about in case there was a note or something—anything—that would help him figure out what to do. 

The flat was of modest size. The kitchen and the lounge area had a small dividing wall at about waist height where someone had set speakers and some textbooks. On Phil’s side of the divide, there was the kitchen with a fridge, a stove, a microwave, a sink, and a lot of cupboards, some of which were already open and filled. There was a high circular table in front of the divide surrounded by four tall chairs. The lounge had an empty side table, a taller table where a TV might go, and a couch. There wasn’t anything else, and Phil was struck by the starkness of it all. Coupled with the ugly pale green accent wall that looked faded and slightly dirty, the whole apartment felt rather … miserable. 

To his left, there was a hallway that, presumably, led to the bedrooms and the bathroom. Harsh light streamed out of it despite the fact that it was noon and sunlight was filtering through the window in the lounge, lighting up the kitchen. 

Phil felt a lot less brave without Marcus by his side, but he stepped over to the little hallway and saw three doors along the right side, a fourth and the end, and two open doors to his left that showed two bathrooms. There was a long sink and counter along the rest of the right-hand side, between the two bathroom doors. The counter was already covered in various toiletries. It seemed Phil was the last one to move in. 

He started moving down the hall and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, his bluey-green eyes dulled and his expression harried. He turned away from it. 

The first bedroom door Phil opened was taken. He recognized Marcus’s comforter thrown haphazardly on the bed and his laptop charging on the desk. He smiled at the sight of some of the knickknacks scattered about that Phil had given to him over the years of their friendship, the ones Marcus made sure were displayed about his room no matter where they moved. 

Phil closed the door and moved to the next one. This was, too, was taken—either by Curtis or the other roommate, Phil wasn't sure—and so Phil moved on. There was a small storage area between the second and third rooms and opposite the sink which had a grimey bucket, a broken broom, and a well-used toilet cleaner sitting on the floor beneath an empty shelf bridging the walls between the two rooms. Phil moved past it and, after peering into the third room only to see it covered in stuff, Phil closed to door and entered the room at the end of the hall. 

It was bare, save for a bed frame, a crappy mattress, a desk, a chair, and a set of drawers. The navy blue-and-black wall-to-wall carpet was covered in splotches and stains from past tenants, and the window was covered in semi-crooked blinds. 

Phil slung his backpack to the ground and set his laptop bag next to it. 

Frowning, Phil gazed around the room, mapping out how he wanted the room to look. 

This was where Marcus would have been helpful, too. Phil wasn't the most in-shape (though, to be fair, Marcus wasn't either) and the prospect of moving his furniture alone wasn't appealing. 

However, Phil _really_ didn’t want the room to stay the way it was. 

Phil started tugging and pushing the bed so that it was against another wall in a corner. The desk went opposite his door, and the drawers he pushed next to the tiny closet. 

Phil stood back once he was done, panting slightly as he gazed about. He did his best to visualize how he wanted the room to look once he actually decorated it, and while he didn’t have too many posters (he’d chosen to leave most of his back in his room in his parent’s house) he thought there would be enough to give it a lived-in feel. His gaze landed on the space between the foot of the bed and the wall, just under the window, which was just big enough to turn into a reading nook. 

Satisfied by his arrangements but starving, Phil thought for a moment. He could finish unpacking his stuff and suffer under the (real or imagined) horrific pressure of people judging him—but then he'd be unpacked. Or, he could go shopping for food and grab something to eat while he was out. 

Phil bit his lip. As much as he wanted to go and get food, he wanted to get the unpacking over with as quickly as possible more. 

So, with a sigh, Phil trooped out to his car and began pulling his boxes and suitcase. 

Phil had his comforter and blankets he needed to put on his bed, he had clothes he needed to put away, and he had books to put in sideways crates (cheaper than bookshelves, he'd told Marcus with a grin when they had lived together last year). 

All in all, it took five trips to get everything out of his car. It was awkward, and even though few people were around, Phil felt as though every eye was on him as he lugged his boxes and bags into his room bulging with books and school supplies. He walked quickly and kept his head down. His long black hair fell in front of his eyes no matter how many times he tried to push it away. 

By the time Phil was done moving all of his stuff inside the flat and putting most of it away, it was nearing two o’clock and he was getting light-headed from lack of food. 

Before he left, he pulled out his phone and texted his mum. 

**_Phil 1:53 PM_ **  
_hey i made it back!!_

His mum responded almost immediately. 

**_Mum 1:54 PM_ **  
_I’m glad to hear that. By the way, your dad and I are going to Slaithwaite, need anything?_

**_Phil 1:54 PM_ **  
_No, thanks! Love you <3_

**_Mum 1:54 PM_ **  
_Love you, too._

With a sigh, Phil pick up his keys and left his room. He headed for his car and climbed in, driving down the familiar route to the store. 

As he parked, he debated once more—get groceries, or get lunch? 

He wasn't moved in completely yet. He wasn't done. His room was put together, but he didn't have food to cook. He didn’t want to have lunch until he had everything he needed. 

So he went to the store and bought his cereal and a few other essentials he needed, such as frozen pizzas and tins of food. 

His phone, which he checked as he put the last of his food into the basket, told him it was nearing two-thirty. 

He hurried through paying and carried everything to his car before he finally let himself relax. 

“Lunch,” he said to himself before eyeing the places around the store. 

There was a deli that Phil knew from past years didn’t have the best lunch options and a pizzeria that made incredible pizza, though Phil was so hungry he didn’t want to wait the time it took to actually _make_ the pizza. 

His eyes landed on a Starbucks that had just opened over the summer, which Marcus had texted him about. Perfect. Phil made his way inside and ordered a sandwich and a drink and tucked his long knobby body into a corner. 

Phil barely remembered eating and drinking. He felt itchy under his skin, uncomfortable away from his room without Marcus’s smiling face keeping him company and keeping his mind off the people around him. The sunlight was too bright, the people around him either acted too young or looked too tired and Phil wanted to be away from them, as far away from the people around him as he could. 

_Take a deep breath,_ he told himself. He still felt itchy, but he was _fine._ He was fine, he was just overreacting. Phil was just overwhelmed. He could deal with these stupid emotions. 

By the time Phil returned to the flat and put his food away—storing most of it in his room, unwilling to intrude on the other's space until they all could talk about how living together would work—he was exhausted. He wanted to talk to Marcus, to catch up on the summer, to figure out the other's schedule so they knew when they could hang out. 

Phil knew Marcus wanted to be vice president of the Energy and Environment Society, which would take a lot of his time with Phil away. Phil didn't mind—he was a low-maintenance friend. He just needed a bit of Marcus’s time, that's all. 

But Marcus hadn't texted yet. It was nearing four and Phil reached for his phone, tugging it out of his back pocket. 

**_Phil 3:31_ **  
_Hey want to grb dinner later?_

No immediate response, not that Phil was expecting one. Marcus was probably still enjoying Curtis and Erika’s company. While Phil liked Marcus’s friends well enough—after all, he did agree to live with Curtis—it wasn't like he was friends with either of them. So, though he was rather hoping he and Marcus could have dinner alone, he wouldn't be too put-off of the other two came. 

He flopped onto his bed and rolled his face into his pillow. The silence enveloped him, curling around his shoulders and pressing into his ears. It was comforting, soothing, and the itch started to fade away. 

“Well, I'm back,” Phil mumbled to himself. No one answered him, of course, but Phil allowed himself to drift into a haze, where he felt his body pressed against the sheets, where he was aware of his breathing and of his heartbeat. 

It wasn’t a disturbing sensation, nor a particularly comforting one, but it was a place Phil allowed himself to go when he wanted to clear his mind. 

Today had been a weird day, where he felt like crawling out of his skin and just drifting away. He didn’t always feel like that, but today had been one of solitude when he had expected to see his friend, and he wished it had been different. Today hadn’t seemed like a very promising start to his final year in uni. 

However, here in his room, where his limbs felt both heavy and light, where his head swam with the sounds of his blood and his breaths, he began feeling better. 

His phone buzzed, disrupting the floating-space he’d been in, and he brought up up to his face, squinting into its brightness. 

**_Marcus 4:41 PM_ **  
_can’t sorry busy._

Phil’s face crumpled slightly, and he clicked his phone dark and rolled himself back into the fabric of his pillow. 

“I’m fine,” he told himself. “I’m fine.” 

_Is this what the rest of the year will be like?_ he wondered. 

No, he told himself, trying to sound stern and failing spectacularly. He’d never been good at lying. It’s just today. Everything will go back to normal soon. It will. 

Despite not being a good liar, Phil tried to believe his thoughts as he rolled over onto his stomach and breathed. 


	2. Chapter 2

Phil dragged himself out of bed when he saw it was nearing seven o’clock and when he stumbled past the bathroom and the bedrooms into the tiny, cramped, kitchen/lounge area, he saw that there was someone he didn’t know standing at the stove.

Phil froze, his breaths quickening.

The man turned around, and Phil wasn’t able to guess his age. He had dark brown hair cut short but fluffed out in a way that reminded Phil of a lion’s mane, friendly grey-brown eyes, and the kind of clothing one saw on hikers and outdoorsmen—hiking boots, frayed canvas trousers, and a muted olive green shirt under a flannel. His skin was a dark olive color, tanned from long exposure to sunlight.

“Hi,” the guy said in a strong Liverpudlian accent. “I’m Ellery, your roommate.”

“Phil,” Phil replied automatically. He was thankful they were too far away from each other to justify not shaking hands. His palms felt sweaty.

“The others already arrived,” Ellery said. “Yesterday is when I settled in, and they were already here.”

“They stayed here over the summer,” Phil said, words coming automatically. “They were working for the university.”

Ellery’s eyebrows raised. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Phil shuffled his feet. “Uh, we know each other. Marcus is my best friend and Curtis is a friend of Marcus’s.”

“So you know each other already.” Ellery’s face fell.

“Well, I mean,” Phil said, trying to not stumble over his words and get off to a worse start. “I’m not really friends with Curtis, I just know him generally, and we’re all welcoming. Don’t be afraid to join into our conversations.”

Ellery offered him a relieved—if still slightly wary—smile, and turned back to the stove.

“What are you studying here?” Phil asked, trying desperately to appear friendly. He didn’t want there to be awkwardness here, in a place he was supposed to call home.

“Environmental studies,” Ellery said blandly. “It’s interesting. You?”

“English,” Phil said. “And, uh, recently split my degree with history.”

“Really?” Ellery’s eyes darted over to Phil. “That sounds really cool.”

Phil ducked his head again. “I mean, I guess. I just really enjoy it. Just means that I’m here for four years trying to finish everything up, you know?”

“That’s fair,” Ellery said. “Anyway, I wanted to have a roommate talk, but with half of us missing, I guess we’ll have to wait.”

“Yeah,” Phil said, feeling relieved he wasn’t the only one who wanted the talk. “Marcus and I lived together last year, and it was really good. Just so long as everyone tries to stay neat, I think we’ll be fine.”

Ellery let out a relieved laugh. “Yeah. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Phil bobbed his head awkwardly just as Ellery’s phone buzzed.

“Ah,” Ellery said. “That’s Julia. She’s my best friend. I’m gonna head out. I hope we get to talk more later, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” Phil said and beat a hasty retreat back to his room where he listened to Ellery get ready to head out. 

_Well,_ he thought, _at least he seems friendly._

Phil felt uncomfortable around a lot of people. Most people. Even people he’d known for years here at the university. He felt he either talked too much trying to fill up the silence and avoid having people think he was stupid (he couldn’t stand being thought of as stupid) or he just sort of awkwardly laughed along with what people were saying. He didn’t have the faintest idea of what people thought of him, but his mind kept going down all the negative paths, endlessly circling all the ways he’d screwed up in past conversations.

Marcus made things easier. They’d known each other for so long that Phil could bounce off Marcus’s conversations and Marcus could charm whoever they were talking to until everyone walked away thinking they had had a good time, even Phil.

Around Marcus, Phil was able to forget just how awkward he truly was.

But Marcus wasn’t here at the moment, and so Phil had to deal with the silence and with the prickle of unhappiness.

He only left his room again once the door closed behind Ellery.

Phil set about heating some tinned soup. It wasn’t his favorite and it wasn’t much, but his late lunch left him feeling less hungry as usual. There wasn’t any noise in the flat, only the distant sound of people getting ready to enjoy the night.

Once the soup was heated, Phil sat at the dining table, feeling self-conscious. He lived with three other people, two of whom were virtually strangers. Should he be eating here? What if they came back and 

wanted the table and Phil was just sitting there, eating?

Phil ate quickly and fled back to his room, pulling the door shut behind him.

He stood there for a moment, wishing he could get back to the floating-state he’d been in earlier, but he didn’t think he would, not with people moving past his window, laughing and joking with one another and generally reminding Phil that, no, he wasn’t alone in the world.

It was the last night of summer. Everyone was going out to party and get drunk.

How unappealing.

Phil settled onto his bed and pulled his laptop onto his lap.

And there he remained for hours, until he couldn’t see the room outside his laptop screen and he had to turn on the bedside lamp so his eyes didn’t strain so much. He browsed Tumblr, he wrote a few lines of the story he was working on, and he watched YouTube videos.

It was relaxing in a way the outside world wasn’t. It was easy to forget to feel the crushing worry that he was wasting his life with his unproductivity when he could watch people play with slime and kittens amble around a room, tripping over their stubby legs.

It was so relaxing, in fact, that when a knock came at Phil’s door, he started so much his laptop nearly fell onto his bed.

Phil pushed one of his headphone ears to the side, his heart beating frantically.

“Yeah?” he called, shutting his laptop lid and shoving it away from him.

The door pushed open to reveal Marcus, who offered him a small smile. Phil could hear people talking around the beats of some song he’d never heard in the flat beyond. At least he wasn’t disturbing them with his own noise.

Marcus wore a casual blue t-shirt, well-worn black jeans, and a leather bracelet. His dark skin gleamed slightly with sweat and his dark eyes were bright with exhilaration.

Phil was pulled out of his thoughts by Marcus making his way over to the bed and plopping down at Phil’s feet.

“I like it,” Marcus said, looking around the room. “You’ve settled in nicely.”

Phil forced a smile. “I mean, I suppose. Did you have a fun day?”

“Yeah!” Marcus laughed. “It was great. We headed out into town, y’know, and just wandered around. It was really fun.”

“Oh,” said Phil.

“Yeah.” Marcus leaned back and looked at Phil through the half-dark. “You did okay today?”

“Yeah, it was fine.” Phil said. “I probably should have moved in yesterday, but, uh, I decided I wanted to finish my Lord of the Rings marathon.”

“Nerd,” Marcus said, grinning fondly. “Was it fun?”

“Yeah,” Phil said. “Just paid attention to Legolas’s face the whole time. It was hilarious.”

“Well, at least it wasn’t a Buffy marathon, or you wouldn’t have made it back to school.”

Phil laughed. “I’d have started earlier if I was going to do that!”

Marcus shook his head. “It’s like your kryptonite, I swear…”

Phil gasped, placing a hand to his chest. “Are you using Buffy’s name in vain?”

“Never,” Marcus said. “Hey, by the way, can we borrow your car? I gotta practise driving more. Just to the store and back.”

Phil felt caught off-guard and said, without really thinking about it, “Uh, sure. Keys are on my desk.”

Marcus grinned and stood up, making his way over to the desk and poking around. He held them up in victory once he found them. “Thanks, Phil. Anyway, we need to hang out soon. Let me know, yeah?”

“I—yeah.” Phil blinked. “I mean, more you let me know, since I don’t really, um, have anything else to do.”

Marcus shook his head and grinned. “Have a good night, okay, Phil?”

“Yeah,” Phil said. “You too.”

He watched Marcus leave, and the little piece of happiness he’d got from seeing his friend quickly vanished as Phil was left alone once more in a darkened room with only a laptop for company.

***

Phil’s first day went fine. He had three classes—a biology class to fulfill his last general classes credit, a history class, and a English literature course.

The science department wasn’t one Phil spent a lot of time in, but he’d taken enough science courses to know which wing he wanted to be in.

By the time he’d climbed all the stairs and located the room, he was out of breath and ready to just give up and go back to his room. His mind still felt groggy from the stress of the last few months, and his neck panged with the crooked way he’d woken up in.

He pushed into the room. He wasn’t about to miss class just because he felt a bit under the weather.

The lecture hall wasn’t the largest Phil had ever been in, but it was large enough that he could sink back into anonymity. He climbed up the stairs until he was about halfway up, then sank into the chair at the end of the row. He pulled out his new notebook for the class, a journal half-filled with his scribbled stories and outlines, and a pen before he bent his head down to avoid talking to anyone.

Phil didn’t want to attract anyone’s attention in this biology class. He already felt out-of-place, since he was most likely one of the few upper-years in here, and he didn’t feel the need to take on a group of freshers whining about how uncertain they were about starting university and how it sucked they had to take classes like this one instead of the “cool” classes they’d get to later.

Just before the professor entered the room, the last few stragglers made their way in. Most sat near the front as the professor made his way to the podium, but one broke off and darted past Phil all the way to the back of the hall. Phil kept his head down and didn’t look up.

However, having someone rush past Phil made him hunch over his work and tuck it away, out of sight of the eyes behind him. He blinked around the room, taking everyone in. Save for a few scattered people, most of the upper seats were empty. The boy in the back was Phil’s closest neighbor, and, Phil saw as he peeked quickly over his shoulder, he was at least six rows above Phil.

Just how Phil liked it.

He nudged his journal away and opened his notebook, ready to take notes.

***

The first day passed much as Phil thought it would. He nodded to a few of the people in his history and literature class he knew—which was three or four in his history, but most of the people in his literature—and he listened to the lectures and participated in the discussions and by the time he was done in the early afternoon, Phil felt ready to crawl back into his room and ignore the rest of the  
world.

The homework he’d gotten was minimal, thankfully. It was something he could do tomorrow.

Phil tossed his backpack to the floor and threw himself on his bed, bouncing slightly before settling.

And there he lay. As much as Phil might like to have talked to someone he knew, just to discuss the first day back, which classes they were looking forward to, he couldn’t. There was no Marcus a few doors down for Phil to go bother, and in the time he’d been at uni, he hadn’t felt the need to make other, good friends. He’d only ever needed Marcus.

He bent his arm around his back to grab his phone out of his pocket and brought it up in front of his face before opening his last conversation with Marcus.

**_Phil 1:19 PM_ **  
_Want to hang out?_

Knowing he wouldn’t get an immediate response, Phil closed his eyes and tried to block out his thoughts, which were getting too loud again. They kept running over everything in the last few days, from the fact that he hadn’t done enough that summer, to how his parents would eventually realize what a failure he was, to how everyone around him must see him as a child who can’t do anything right and who still needs support from his family … right to the fact that Marcus hadn’t made any efforts to hang out with Phil. Last night had been a quick check in, almost clinical in its perfunctory small talk.

_Stop it,_ he chided himself. _Marcus has been here all summer. He made plans with other people. This doesn’t mean he’s forgotten about you—it just means he’ll hang out when you get a chance. Stop being so needy._

Phil was undeniably needy, and it was something he hated about himself.

Hate’s a strong word, Phil thought. _Disliked._

Phil tried to push everything away. He didn’t need to think about it. He’s fine. Everything was fine. Everything will always be fine.

Phil hadn’t meant to fall asleep on his bed, but when he woke up it was darkening outside and his stomach was helpfully reminding him that he hadn’t eaten lunch.

Ignoring his stomach in favor of his phone, Phil scrambled to open his text messages, hoping he hadn’t missed Marcus’s reply.

He had, by almost an hour.

**_Marcus 3:56 PM_ **  
_Maybe 2morrow_

Phil bit his lip, but sent an ok back. After all, tomorrow wasn’t very far away.

Phil settled back on his pillows for a moment, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the way his thoughts restlessly picked at his skull.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, but when it was dark enough that he had to turn on the light or risk falling asleep again in the dark, Phil forced himself to his feet and made his way to the kitchen, where he fixed himself a bowl of cereal.

He took it back to his room, rather than sit in the communal room. He settled at his desk and pulled a book over to him, reading as he spooned mouthful after mouthful to his lips.

_Maybe I should get a mini-fridge,_ Phil thought. _That way, I wouldn’t have to take up more space out there._

If he saved up enough for a microwave, then there’d be absolutely no need for him to intrude on the kitchen at all unless he needed the stove occasionally.

Phil didn’t like to intrude on others. He did it enough with his words and with his own family—he was too much of a burden already. Best take up as little space as possible.

Best take up no space at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a slow start, but it picks up the pace soon, I swear. Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not like this chapter. Any and all help would be DEEPLY appreciated!

Marcus wasn’t able to hang out the next day, and as Phil attended another history class and literature class, he wondered when Marcus would have time for him.

Phil forced himself to take a deep breath, which was only a little bit shaky. No one around him gave him a second look.

_Good._

The break between his history class and his literature class was just long enough for a meal, so Phil decided to head over to the university center to pick up some coffee and lunch. He stepped out of the class and made his way down the hallway, trying to make sure he didn’t bump into anyone with his flailing limbs.

Outside the building was cold, crisp, and slightly damp. The sun had almost reached noon, but it’s light was weakening as autumn fast approached. Phil still tilted his head back to feel its light on his face, and he could almost believe that nobody was around him in that moment.

That is, until he almost tripped over a jutting in the pavement.

Blushing furiously, Phil didn’t dare look around and instead hurried along the path towards the center, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible while digging out his phone.

He was just about to text Marcus and tell him about his attack of clumsiness just so he could say _something_ when someone stepped alongside him.

Phil started and blinked over to see PJ’s smiling face.

“Peej!” Phil said. “Hi, how are you?”

“I’m good,” PJ said, knocking his shoulder gently into Phil’s. “Was wondering when I’d see you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not that hard to find, at my height,” Phil said.

“Too true, too true.” PJ laughed, his eyes warm. “Any chance we could grab a coffee?”

“I got a class at two,” Phil said. “But right now, sure.”

“I’ve got a class at two, also,” PJ said. “That works out well.”

“What classes are you taking?” Phil asked as he and PJ made their way to the little cafe that offered drinks and snacks at a reasonable price.

“More advanced stuff, this being the last year of undergrad,” PJ said. “A seminar, a couple of advanced editing and directing courses, you know how it is.”

“I’m taking my seminar next semester,” Phil said. “Mostly have theory and analysis this time around.”

PJ shook his head as they pushed out of the building and into the quad. “Don’t know how you can stand that stuff.”

“It’s all interesting!” Phil protested. “I’m taking a class right now about monsters in literature and it’s fascinating. We’re looking at the concept of a monster throughout the centuries at the moment. How they evolved over time and stuff and what societal fears they embodied.”

“There’s a class on monsters?” PJ looked at him, eyes wide. “That’s sounds amazing!”

“It really is,” Phil said. “I’ve looked at the syllabus, and we’ll be looking at a lot of horror movies and shows, and I’m so excited.”

“That’s right, you like horror.” PJ shook his head fondly. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy dissecting it all later.”

“I think I will,” Phil said. “I’m certainly looking forward to seeing how I can work the theories into my own novel.”

PJ clapped him on the back as they entered the center. “You’ll do great. Honestly, I’m so excited to read your bloody novel. You keep holding out on me.”

Phil ducked his head. “Sorry.”

“Don’t need your apology, mate,” PJ said as they stepped into line. “I barely saw you last semester, how did that go?”

“From a personal or academic perspective?” Phil asked.

“Both.”

They paused to give their orders, then headed off to find an empty table.

“From an academic perspective, I did great,” Phil said. “First-hons.”

PJ whistled. “ _Damn,_ Phil!”

Phil ducked his head for a moment. “Personally, it sucked.”

“I bet,” PJ said, not unkindly. “Whenever I saw you, you were either working or on your way to continue working.”

“Yeah.” Phil blew out a sigh. “I overdid it, I think.”

PJ snorted. “I _know_ you overdid it. Not sure whether I’m impressed or horrified. Let’s say a mixture of both.”

“Whatever you want,” Phil said. “I’m just glad it’s over. I don’t really feel the need to become the embodiment of Hermione again this semester.”

“Good.” PJ nodded.

From there, the conversation meandered to different topics. How their summers went, what they hoped to learn in the upcoming semester, amusing happenings the last few days. Phil asked after PJ’s current films and listened intently as PJ sketched out some of his ideas with a gleam in his eye. PJ broke off and got up as their names were called and waved Phil back down to his seat with a, “Be right back!”

Phil watched him make his way to the counter where their drinks and food sat and wondered, idly, what he’d do after he was done with classes later that day. Marcus had begged off that morning, citing a trip to the next town over with Erika and Curtis.

Which was fine. Marcus could do what he wanted to.

PJ returned with the drinks and food, and he and Phil tucked in, talking to each other around bites of food and sips of coffee about the last movies they’d seen.

“Ph, hey, so for the video series about the space pirates,” PJ said, “would you want to be a part of them?”

“Of course,” Phil said. “Just shoot me a text and I’ll be there.”

“I know you will,” PJ said. “You’re more reliable than anyone I know when it comes to making commitments.”

“Hey,” Phil said as PJ grimaced. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out last semester.”

“You and me both,” PJ said. “How’s Marcus, by the way? I’d have thought I’d be lunching with the both of you.”

“He’s out.” Phil broke his last bit of sandwich into half. “With Curtis and Erika.”

PJ was silent for a minute. “Those friends he made last year?”

“Yeah,” Phil said. “They’re nice people. I had a class with Erika last term. She’s quiet, but smart. Practical.”

“You look glum,” PJ said. “Just hound Marcus about it when you see him later.”

“Yeah,” Phil said. “I will.”

They shared a look, and when they had to leave to go to their classes, Phil felt more content than he had since stepping foot back on the campus.

***

Phil wanted to be an author. He wanted to spin worlds from his fingertips and breathe life into characters and light up people's minds in new and intense ways, coloring them with a magic they had never seen before.

Unfortunately, his words never cooperated with him.

The weekend was coming up and, since Phil had little in the way of homework, he hoped to work on a few of his chapters. It was slow going—the words weren’t flowing and the characters felt stuck and crumbled. Phil bit his lip and sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“ _Take breaks,_ ” one of his professors advised him once. “ _It’s easy to burn out on a book. When you need to take a break, take one, and take one for as long as you need to. Work on other things._ ”

“Probably a good idea,” Phil mumbled to himself.

His book often helped him through the semester. World-building, character creation, plotting … They helped his attention in class and gave him an outlet and a reason to remember what he learned.

_Well, a break couldn’t hurt._

Still, Phil thought as he looked at the blinking cursor on the bright white page, it felt a bit like defeat, taking a break at the beginning of the semester.

Phil closed his document and switched over to YouTube. If he couldn’t lose himself in his words, he’d lose himself in cat videos. That was basically the same thing, right?

***

Phil and Marcus didn’t get to hang out until Thursday, and, by that point, Phil was nearly bursting with things he wanted to tell Marcus but hadn’t had a chance to all week. Marcus hadn’t asked, though, as much as Phil would have liked him to. Phil had managed to catch Marcus with an hour or so of free time and had wheedled his friend enough that Marcus had agreed to come with him.

"Come on," Phil cajoled. It was late Wednesday night, Phil's hand rested on Marcus's arm as Marcus was headed into his room. "It'll be fun. A nice, quick break."

"Yeah," Marcus said after a beat of thoughtful silence. "Yeah, sounds good."

They left at around two, and Phil guided them to the little woody area not far from campus. It was a familiar route, near a park and a river, and it was one Phil often took, alone or with company.

“How’s life?” Marcus asked as they walked.

“It’s good,” Phil said. “I mean, it’s my last year and all…”

“Lucky!” Marcus laughed. “I wished I hadn’t added a split like you.”

“What’s done is done,” Phil said, smiling over at his friend. “Anyway, how have you been? How’s everything with school? Work? Social life?”

“All good,” Marcus said. “What about you? What about your classes?”

“Oh my God,” Phil said. “Have I told you about my Monsters in Literature?”

“Just a little bit,” Marcus said. “It’s with that prof you aren’t particularly fond of, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Phil admitted. “But the class itself is just … amazing. Do—do you mind if I rant a little bit?”

“Not at all.”

Phil took a deep breath and began explaining the history of monsters in literature, the themes which emerged, and the societal ramifications they presented.

About halfway through his rant, they branched away from Phil’s usual loop and headed down another towards the river, and Phil could already hear the rushing water.

“But, anyway,” Phil said. “It’s just … It makes me so _mad,_ how inconsiderate so many explorers were. Like, if you were to go off to a new land and you saw what looked like a one-footed man, what would you do? Investigate?”

“Probably,” Marcus said.

“They didn’t!” Phil said as they came up to the little covered area with benches and tables where people could eat. There was litter scattered everywhere, but he and Marcus picked their way down to the bank and settled themselves down on some wide, flat rocks.

“They just thought those places were filled with one-footed people,” Phil continued once he was settled. “And, like, they thought there was these monsters with enormous ears. Like, ears that could wrap around their bodies like blankets and could fly. Like … Like Dumbo, or something. And this was probably people who gauges and the explorers were like ‘whelp, they’ve got big ears’ and then just didn’t care! What’s the point in adventuring if you’re just going to lie about everything and not show any curiosity at all?”

“Isn’t there a word for that?” Marcus asked.

“Probably eurocentrism or arsehole-ry or something,” Phil said as he picked up a stone and chucked it into the water. He picked another one up. “It just makes me mad, you know? All those amazing civilizations, all downplayed or criticized because they happen to be different from European societies. It’s so stupid, you know? And, like, it’s part of my heritage, and I can’t _do_ anything about that.”

“You can change how people think,” Marcus pointed out.

“That’s what I want to do,” Phil said. “That’s what I’m _going_ to do.”

“You’ll do great,” Marcus said warmly. Phil smiled at him.

The sun shone, their conversation was lazy and slow, and Phil’s mind raced to find new things to talk about, new things to fill up the silence, to let Marcus back into his life. Because surely this was it, right? They’d had a week or so where Marcus hadn’t been around, but now they could hang out just like normal.

The minutes flew past as Phil asked Marcus about his summer and his last week and Marcus in turn asked more about Phil’s life, his classes, and his book. Phil started relaxing back into the familiar company of one of his oldest remaining friends.

“I have to head back,” Marcus said, checking his phone, interrupting himself as he was telling Phil about something Erika had said.

“Oh,” Phil said. “Right, sure. Let’s go.”

They stood up and started to head back, and Phil wondered if Marcus wanted to walk in silence, or if he should ramble about something else. Phil had never really _understood_ what to do in conversations. He wondered if there had been a guide passed around that he’d somehow missed out on.

“God,” Marcus said. “The Society this year … Remember last year?”

“Yeah,” Phil said. Last year had been Marcus doing his best to keep the Society together with a president who wasn’t very good at his job, which meant that Marcus had been the president in everything but name.

“I think it’s going to get worse this year,” groaned Marcus.

“Really?” Phil asked, making a sympathetic noise.

“Really,” Marcus said, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s going to fucking suck. Sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

Marcus looked guilty. “For swearing.”

“I don’t care,” Phil said, which came out tired, as he’d said it many times before.

“I still feel bad,” Marcus said. “Anyway, hopefully things will calm down soon, and we can start hanging out more.”

“That'd be great,” Phil said. “And I’m … really glad I don’t have all that drama you’ve got in my life.”

“It’s gotta be nice,” Marcus said. “You know, Phil, you're my drama-free friend. Congrats, you manage to avoid some major headaches.”

“I’m glad I did,” Phil said.

The walk back to uni was filled with a resurgence of awkward, one-sided conversation on Phil’s behalf, and he was exhausted by the time Marcus bade him goodbye in the kitchen area of their flat. He headed for his room, crawled into his bed, and turned up his music, trying to drown out all of his racing thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SEE DAN AND PHIL TODAY OMFG!!!
> 
> And as such, here's another chapter!

The first week passed by quickly and with little ceremony. Phil still sat away from the people around him in most of his classes, he still kept his head down and took notes, jotting down a couple of lines in his writing journal when a clump of words swirled across his brain. He still stayed in his room for the most part and waited there as Marcus and Curtis and sometimes Ellery brought in their friends and their alcohol and their loud music.

Whenever they partied, Phil turned up his own music and pressed his headphones closer to his ears, drowning them out.

On Wednesday of the second week, just before classes, Phil cleaned. He swept and mopped the floors, he cleaned the toilet and showers, he wiped down the sinks, he wiped off the stove and the counters. By the time he had to get to class, the place was looking much better, and Phil could help but smile as he made his way to class, feeling able to relax for the first time since stepping foot in the flats.

_Clean home, happy home,_ his mum always used to say. Phil could see why she said it. The flat hadn’t been dirty, per se, but none of the others seemed particularly bothered by the piles of dirty dishes, the stickiness of the floor, and the crumbs of dust and food scattered all over the carpets.

He saw PJ occasionally, but PJ was usually surrounded by people he’d much rather hang out with and therefore Phil just waved awkwardly at him because, while Phil liked PJ and PJ liked Phil, Phil wasn’t the sort of person people wanted to hang out with. He didn’t party, he didn’t drink, he didn’t go out much at all, and he didn’t have a lot in common with other people, being usually out-of-date with anything current and popular and whose idea of fun was to watch YouTube or horror or mystery movies alone in his room.

“You’re one of those niche people,” Marcus told him a few years ago. “You like what you like and you kinda ignore everything else.”

Marcus didn’t hang out with Phil again after the river until lunchtime on Friday. They both went to the store and grabbed lunch while out, chatting.

“Really, mate,” Marcus said as he slathered his burrito with salsa. “This summer was an experience, you know?”

“Yeah,” Phil said. “I know.”

“But tell me more about your summer,” Marcus said. “You didn’t talk about it all that much earlier, and you always do such interesting things.”

Phil shifted in his seat. “I mean, not really.”

“C’mon,” Marcus insisted. “Your book, your family, the fact you got a job…”

Phil felt his cheeks flame. Even though he knew Marcus didn’t care if Phil had a job or not, he still felt like a failed adult every time someone drew attention to it.

“It all went good,” Phil said. “I had an epiphany over the summer that’ll make my plot work much better. Um, my family is good. Dad kept taking me and my brother out on all these hikes…”

“You like hiking,” Marcus said.

“I like walking,” Phil corrected him. “This was, like, deep into forests and stuff. Which was, er, rough. I think I got about five new scars.”

“Unsurprising.”

Phil rolled his eyes, but smiled under the familiar weight of Marcus’s teasing. “Shut up! I can’t help that I’m clumsy. And work was … an experience. A good one all-round, I think.”

Marcus bobbed his head. His said, soft and sincere, “It’s good to see you again, Phil.”

Why did it take this long? Phil’s snarky backseat thoughts offered. He pushed them away and instead smiled at Marcus. “Same.”

“We need to hang out more.” Marcus sighed and pushed his bangs up into a quiff for a moment. “Let’s try, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Phil said and thought, _hadn’t Marcus already said that?_ He didn't want to think about what that might mean.

***

Despite how unnerved he felt by Marcus saying he wanted to hang out more without, seemingly, making any attempts to actually hang out more, Phil tried to fall into the same habits from last year. Dinner together, meeting up on the weekends sometimes to go on a walk, hanging out together as they studied ... He and Marcus usually did so much together, and Phil was fine and comfortable with that.

However, the rest of the next week flew by without Marcus and Phil really talking again. Marcus was busy with Curtis and Erika, both of whom were in the Energy and Environment Society—Curtis was, in fact, the new president of the Society. Since last year was so chaotic, they were having to hold re-elections this year for the rest of the positions.

Phil watched helplessly as his plans dissolved into nothing, as his conversations with Marcus were cut short, as his attempts to say hello were met with brusque responses.

Despite what Marcus had said he wanted, Phil couldn’t see any changes, and so when Marcus knocked on Phil’s door and entered, grimacing in apology Sunday night, Phil was beginning to feel a bit upset.

“What’s up?” Phil asked, pulling his headphones down around his neck.

“I need to write a speech for the elections,” Marcus said as he hopped up beside Phil. “I was hoping you could help.”

Phil set his laptop aside and picked up Marcus’s. “Of course. What do you want to say?”

“I don’t know.” Marcus wrung his hands. “Uh, I think I’m supposed to give a speech about who I am, why I want this position, and what it is I’d do to help the Society.”

“Alright,” Phil said. “Then give me the speech.”

Marcus blinked. “What, like, right now?”

“Yeah,” Phil said, smiling in encouragement. “Your own words. We’ll fine-tune everything later.”

“Okay.” Marcus took a deep breath. “Then, uh. Hi, everyone, my name is Marcus Miller, and I’d like to tell you why I want to be vice-president of the Energy and Environmental Society.”

The sounds of typing filled the air as Phil wrote without looking at the keyboard, choosing instead to smile encouragingly at Marcus, who smiled back before taking a deep breath.

“I’ve been a student here for three years, and during that time this club has become important to me. It’s opened my eyes to the damage we’re causing to the earth. Climate change is getting worse and worse and it’s important to me that we find a way to stop harming the earth as much. With my position within this society, I hope to be able to have fundraisers and events that educate people in an open, friendly way so that they don’t feel we are attacking them by telling them all the ways we’re destroying the earth.”

Phil nodded along to his typing. “Good. Anything else?”

“I think that’s really all I need,” Marcus said. “Was that any good?”

“Let me just polish this up…” Phil murmured, scrolling back up to the top and going through his hastily-typed paragraph.

They sat in silence for a few minutes as Phil added bits and pieces to the speech, deleting some sentences and adding others.

“There,” he said. “I think that’s good.”

He passed the laptop over to Marcus, who looked down at the page, silently reading.

Phil fidgeted, twisting his fingers around each other.

“Some of these words aren’t ones I’d use,” Marcus said after a moment.

Phil forced a smile. “Yeah, I know, so edit it out and add what you think you’d say.”

“This is very formal,” Marcus said.

Another way he’d botched it up, then. “Then change it.”

Marcus nodded, nodded again. “I will. Thanks, Phil. This really does look great.”

Phil’s stomach twisted, but he ignored it and his head screaming that he couldn’t even write speeches for his best friend successfully.

“Anytime,” he said instead, and watched Marcus leave the room.

As soon as the door closed, Phil slumped against his pillow and pressed heels of his palms against his eyes.

Try as he might, Phil felt like a convenience to Marcus, and the thought settled heavily in his gut and throat.

***

Phil’s phone buzzed. Then buzzed again. And again. He glanced over in confusion only to see that someone was calling him. Hardly anyone called him—most people just texted, since it wasn’t like he had a Snapchat or Instagram to contact him on.

He turned his phone over and recognized the name printed on the screen, so he accepted the call.

“Hey, Ellie,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” she said. “I wanted to talk more about that idea you had?”

It took a moment for Phil to wrangle his mind into giving up the memory. “Oh, yeah. Have you thought about it?”

“I have,” she said. “And I want to do it. Are you sure your parents are okay with it?”

“I mean, you did talk to them over the summer,” Phil said. “You know what they’ve asked of you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Her voice was calm, smooth. She always sounded so sure of herself. “Just wanted to double-check. I’ve talked it over with my mom, and I’d like to bring my dogs up, too. I’ll put my notice in in a few weeks, and my plan is to head up to Slaithwaite around mid-October.”

“I mean, thank you for letting me know, but you should talk to my parents about this,” Phil said. “It’s their house.”

“Oh, I will,” Ellie assured him. “But I wanted you in the loop, too.”

Phil said, “Thanks.” He wasn’t sure if he should be touched or not—after all, Ellie was a maybe-almost-friend, not an actual friend.

“I’ll see you soon, then!” Ellie said.

Phil tried to inject excitement into his voice as he said, “Totally!”

There was an awkward beat of silence as neither of them hung up before Phil yanked his phone away from his ear and ended the call.

“Goddammit, Phil, you flop,” he mumbled to himself, tossing his phone onto the comforter next to him and resolutely ignoring its existence.

***

Phil felt almost pitifully glad when Marcus approached him one afternoon and proposed they go on another walk Saturday.

Behind campus, there was a little patch of wood. It wasn’t far enough away that a walker couldn’t hear the sound of cars moving in the distance, but it was far enough that the noises of the city were muted, muffled, easily ignored.

It was there Phil and Marcus headed, and their feet crunch over the ground, first on pavement and then on carefully maintained gravel pathways.

It was silent at first, until Marcus asked, “How have you been?”

“Good.” Phil looked at the ground to make sure he didn’t trip over any tree roots. “Uh, not much to do beside write and school.”

Marcus didn’t seem to pick up on anything amiss, and asked instead about Phil’s classes, his various projects, the going-ons in his life.

Phil answered as best he could, trying to stop himself from going into more detail than he needed and unintentionally boring Marcus as he talked about something he, Phil, thought was fascinating, but everyone else around him found dull.

When Phil had run out of things to talk about—details he’d usually share with Marcus when they saw each other everyday but were now forgotten as they saw each other less and less—Phil instead tried to turn the conversation around, desperately wanting to know how Marcus was, what his life had been like for the last few weeks.

“Enough about me,” Phil said, trying to keep his tone cheerful and upbeat as he stumbled over a rock. “What about you? What have you been up to?”

Marcus shrugged, reaching out to steady Phil, half a beat too slow. A remembered reaction slack with neglect. “Really, not much.”

“Still seeing Jill?”

Marcus’s lips quirked upwards. “Yeah. She’s great.”

“I’ve been seeing more of Erika around than Jill.”

“Yeah.” Marcus shrugged. “I dunno if you remember, but Erika was really into me last semester.”

Phil rubbed his neck, scratching idly at an itch. “I remember. You had a whole crisis about whether you should be with Jill or Erika.”

“It’s Erika for now,” Marcus admitted. “I’m just trying to be friends with Jill.”

“But she’s persistent?”

“I mean, I suppose you could say that. It’s more … I like both of them, Phil. I really, really do. And I don’t know how to chose.”

Phil could only shrug helplessly, holding back words of generic advice, remembering that this was why Marcus didn’t like to talk to Phil about his relationships, no matter how much of an impact they had on his life. Phil had never really had _one_ person actively pursue him that he liked, let alone two. He had no idea what he would do in a situation like this.

Was this why Marcus had stopped hanging out with Phil so much? Was Marcus’s life so entangled with relationships and romance and triangles that he couldn’t go to Phil for any support, which negated his desire to talk to Phil, since romance was so prominent in his life now?

Phil felt like a failure of a best friend. Marcus had been there when Phil was stressing about his stories, his family issues, his school work. He’d been with Phil through thick and thin and when Marcus needed Phil’s help, Phil could only shrug awkwardly as they talked about things he couldn’t really comprehend and offer generic advice?”

Advice like, “Ask yourself who you really like, and then go with them.”

“But I like _both,_ ” Marcus said. “Jill is so studious and gorgeous and smart and she’s wonderful to be around, but Erika is so fun and witty and I just … How can I decide?”

“Go with what you want,” Phil said. “It’ll work out.”

“Yeah.” Marcus wasn’t looking at Phil. He was looking off into the distance. “Yeah, I suppose.”

Phil fell silent, feeling helpless as he watched his friend pull ahead of him without realizing, leaving Phil behind in the dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A LOT of a exposition in this. If any of you have any concrit, I'd LOVE to hear it!
> 
> Also, a certain someone is going to show up in the next chapter *finger guns and winks awkwardly*


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I'm off on vacation soon, so while I'll try to get more chapters out as quickly as possible, I'm not sure how successful I'll be. Once my life has calmed down a bit and I'm back at home with a more stable schedule (yeah, I didn't start posting at the best time did I? Lol) I'll try to update once a week on Saturdays or Sundays. The day might change, but I'll keep you posted! Thanks for your patience, and I'd love, as always, to hear your thoughts!
> 
> (As it's been pointed out to me, the uni is pretty American. I know, believe me! If there's anything too glaring, please let me know and I'll see if I can change it!)
> 
> (Also, I promise Phil's headspace will get better soon. I know it can be a slog, but bear with me!)

Phil, needless to say, was beginning to feel a bit anxious. It seemed he and his best friend were growing more distant, and he had no idea how to stop it. He didn’t want to just approach Marcus and bring it up—he didn’t want Marcus to think he was being needy and stupid, too sensitive and resistant to change.

Phil didn’t want to remind Marcus of all of his flaws—that would only give Marcus more reason to leave.

It was these thoughts that hounded him as he entered his biology class, and Phil slunk into his seat with barely a glance around.

His shoulders hunched in on their own accord, and Phil wished with all his might that he could just _stop._ Just, for a moment, cease to exist to other people, just until he could figure his life out, figure himself out, and when he got back … when he got back, maybe he’d finally be someone people would _want_ to hang around, instead of just hanging around because he entertained them or because they thought he needed minding like a child.

Phil didn’t even register taking out his notebook and journal, and it was only the familiar scuttling of feet of the shy fresher scooting past Phil’s row that roused him from his slump in time to listen to the professor begin her lecture.

Admittedly, though Phil was enjoying this class, his heart wasn’t into listening about the water cycle, and he found himself doodling in the margins of his journal, pausing only to jot down a few hastily scribbled notes.

He kept glancing at his phone, willing the time to speed up so that he could leave soon.

However, halfway through the class, the professor clapped her hands together to get the class’s attention.

“Group work,” Phil’s biology professor announced. “I’m tired of talking. I want you all to pair up and answer these questions.” She clicked a button and the slide changed to a series of five questions. “You can use your phones to answer.”

Phil looked around him. There was no one near him.

Except…

“Hi,” a voice said. Phil blinked and glanced over his shoulder to see the brown-haired boy standing to the side of Phil’s row, looking down at his shoes. “My name is Dan.”

Dan had straight brown hair swept to the side of his face. His brown eyes were downcast and dull. He wore a black hoodie, black skinny jeans, and simple black converse. Despite the overall gloominess of Dan’s outfit and bearing, Phil threw on a quick smile that he hoped was welcoming and friendly. He didn’t want Dan thinking he was rude or unfriendly or something of that nature.

“Phil,” Phil responded. “Have a seat?”

Dan inched behind Phil down the row and sat on a chair two seats down, so there was a free chair between them. Phil ignored that and ignored the way Dan hugged his bag to his chest, perched on the edge of his chair, which was angeled in a way so that Dan could leave quickly away from Phil if he felt the need to. Phil tried not to read into his body language too much—Dan didn’t know him, but he probably had a good reason for acting this way, and Phil wasn’t going to take it personally.

“So,” Phil said, squinting at the PowerPoint at the front of the hall. “We need to find out the steps in the phosphorus cycle, the nitrogen cycle, and and the carbon cycle. Want to take one, I take the other, and we both work on the third?”

Dan mumbled something, but Phil didn’t want to ask him to repeat it. Dan’s hunched figure was off-putting. Instead of trying to engage Dan, Phil dug out his phone and began researching the carbon cycle, telling Dan which one he was doing.

“Here’s the first step,” Phil said out loud as he began writing down the answer on a spare piece of paper. “Should we share the paper?”

“Sure.” Dan’s voice probably could get more sarcastic, but it would be difficult, Phil reckoned.

“Sorry,” he said reflexively and slid the paper over towards Dan.

Dan actually looked up, and their eyes met. Dan was blushing just slightly, a little red patch along his jaw, but Phil was more focused on the fact that Dan was actually looking at him and that Dan looked taken aback, surprised.

Dan cleared his throat, just slightly, and asked in a slightly hoarse voice, “What are you sorry for?”

Phil shrugged awkwardly. “I have no idea.” _Making you uncomfortable._

Dan squinted. “...Sounds legit.”

Phil couldn’t help but giggle at that, feeling his tongue poke between his teeth.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, ducking his head down. “I’m a mess.”

“We all are, don’t worry about it too much,” Dan said, his voice sounding more and more animated. He picked up a pencil and began scribbling away at the paper.

Phil waited patiently for him to finish, looking down at his phone as he did so, trying to see if he could memorize all the steps.

“Okay,” Dan said. “Nitrogen cycle down.”

Phil tugged his notebook back towards him before squinting down at Dan’s writing.

“Um,” Phil said.

Dan didn’t seem to need him to say anything else before nodding and agreeing, “Yeah. Maybe you should write everything down. If you don’t mind.”

“I think the prof would prefer that.”

“Shut up!” Dan said, the words and tone a reflex, almost. He hunched in on himself and quieted down as soon as the words left his mouth.

The part of Phil that loathed conflict of any kind reared its head, and Phil rearranged his lips into a smile and said in a light, joking tone, “You can’t tell me what to do!”

“Oh yeah?” Dan said.

“Yeah,” Phil said, and giggled.

“I get sarcastic, sometimes,” Dan offered. “It’s nothing against you.”

“It’s okay,” Phil said, and meant it.

“Just let me know if it gets too much,” Dan said. “Really.”

“I will.”

“Good.” Dan nodded. “I found the phosphorus cycle.”

“Let me finish with the carbon cycle first,” Phil protested, and Dan snickered as Phil leaned over again and began scribbling furiously with his pencil.

They bantered lightly back and forth, and though neither of them really talked about anything other than the answers to the questions, Phil felt lighter, happier. Dan was easy to talk to. Dan was _fun_ to talk to.

Not that Phil needed another maybe-almost-friend. He had too many. It was hard to keep track of them all, sometimes.

Still, when Dan got up to head back to his seat in the far back of the lecture hall, Phil gave him a little wave of goodbye before feeling silly and sitting on his hand, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Phil hoped Dan hadn’t seen. Maybe the younger boy would think Phil actually had some resemblance of a life taped together.

***

When Phil dragged himself into the flat, he was greeted with the stink of trash. A little over a week had gone by and the communal room looked a mess, as if Phil had never cleaned it in the first place. Dishes were piled up in and around the sink, flecks of food were splattered across the counter and stove, and the trash hadn’t been taken out the whole time Phil had been living here.

Phil’s breath hitched. He wasn’t the neatest person ever—he had a habit of leaving cupboard doors open, his socks just kind of scattered themselves over surfaces, and sometimes he’d leave his dishes out overnight—but he liked a tidy living space. He liked being able to return from the outside world where there were Other People and the stresses that came with interacting with those people to a place that looked and smelled nice.

_Guess that’s not going to happen,_ he thought, rather miserably.

Though exhausted, Phil dragged himself to his room, dropped off his backpack, and returned to the kitchen where he took out the trash and began to clean everything up. He wiped the surfaces down and swept all of the excess into the bin before getting started on the dishes.

It took him over an hour to get all the dishes done, as Phil didn’t have any soap for the tiny dishwasher that he didn’t know worked or not, so he had to do it all by hand. By the end of it, Phil was even more exhausted than he had been coming in.

He washed his pruning hands off, dried them on the nearest towel, and heaved himself back to his room where he shut the door behind him and collapsed on the bed.

He didn’t want to move, but he was running out of food. He wanted to make stir fry that night, but he was missing a lot of the ingredients he needed.

Phil groaned into the comforter, feeling his breath warm the fabric until it was almost painfully hot.

He stayed there for a few more minutes, trying to get his body to relax before giving his tense shoulders and rigid neck up for a lost cause.

Phil stood, grabbed his wallet, a jacket, and his phone, and slipped outside of his room.

No one had returned, it seemed, and Phil took in the clean flat for a brief moment before heading out the door.

Instead of taking his car, Phil thought he might walk. The day was unusually sunny, and though the air had a bitterly cold nip to it, Phil didn’t mind it all that much.

As he wandered through the neighborhood, Phil wished that Marcus had come with him. Granted, Phil hadn’t invited Marcus, but it used to be that they were nearby one another so texting was, for the most part, pointless. Whenever Phil thought to contact Marcus, it was to open his door and talk to his best friend.

For the most part, phones—texting, emails, social media—it didn’t feel _real_ , and Phil was having a hard time getting used to thinking of Marcus as pixels on a screen instead of flesh and blood, though at the rate he’d been seeing his best friend the last couple of weeks, it was something he was going to have to get used to.

Phil entered the store ten minutes later and wandered up and down the aisles, scanning for anything he might need. Usually, he’d have a list, but in his exhausted haze he hadn’t made one.

While browsing, he’d run into his old creative writing teacher, who nattered to him for a few minutes. Phil learned that he had taken a semester off and was about to make his way up further north to attend a conference, but that he’d stopped by to catch up with a few professors and stock up on food.

“Hotel food isn’t quite up to snuff, these days,” he’d told Phil cheerfully.

After a few more minutes, Phil was able to say goodbye and make his escape, feeling prickly and uncomfortable, hoping he didn’t run into anyone else he knew.

He’d grabbed more cereal and was making his way towards the coffee when a voice said, “Hey!”

Phil didn’t look up.

There was a tap on his shoulder, and Phil jumped, spinning around to see a semi-familiar face smiling at him.

“Hey,” the girl said. “It’s been a while.”

“Uh,” Phil said. “I guess.”

“It’s funny,” she said. “I don’t remember your name.”

“Phil.”

“Ashley.”

They shook hands, and Phil winced as his own warm, clammy hand gripped her smooth, colder one.

“Sorry,” she said. “I was just working on the freezer aisles.”

“N-no, it’s fine,” Phil said, relieved to drop her hand. He shifted his basket awkwardly on his arm. “So, uh, how’ve you been?”

Ashley grimaced. “Better. Wasn’t able to come back to uni this semester due to various reasons, but I’m working and staying busy, you know?”

“Why weren’t you able to come back?” Phil asked before tacking on, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Not at all!” Ashley said. “My mom’s sick. Dad left ages ago, so I decided to stay with her full-time, just until the medicine starts working.”

“That’s good of you,” Phil said. “That’s really quite good of you.”

Ashley shrugged. “I suppose. I mean, I keep studying outside of school.”

“Really?” They’d only had one class together last year, but Phil had found the older girl to be serious and studious, so it came as no surprise to him that she kept at her studies.

“Oh, yeah.” She laughed. “I always say I’ll never let formal schooling get in the way of my education.”

Phil obligingly laughed.

“And anyways,” she said. “I’ve picked up a new book on fur trapping in North America and how us Brits and the Americans were competing against one another. Quite interesting stuff.”

“I’d guess so,” Phil said. “Maybe you could tell me about it sometime.”

There was a moment of silence, and Phil knew he was going to blurt something out, and he wished Ashley would fill up the silence because—

“I’m making dinner,” Phil said. “Stir fry.”

“I love stir fry!” Ashley said.

“You’re welcome to join,” Phil said. “I usually make too much for me, anyway.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

_Yes._ “No, of course not.”

“Then I’d love to join,” she said. “Where do you live?”

Phil gave her his address and gave her his number and waved goodbye to her (“I really must be getting back to work before I get yelled at or something.”) and continued shopping with a sunken feeling in his gut.

He didn’t want company. What the hell had he been thinking?

“ _Phil,_ ” he mumbled to himself before sighing and heading over to the cereal aisle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dan has appeared!! Ahh, I loved writing this chapter, you have no idea :D I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the only person on this road trip with a driver's license, I can safely say I know perpetual exhaustion. Cali is a large state, lol.
> 
> Sorry for the wait! I swear this has been at the back of my mind, but, yeah. I might clean this chapter up later, we'll see--but I wanted to get something out, and it's decent. Been tired and busy seeing a part of the country I rarely see! It's been super fun :D
> 
> However, I go home on Friday! Hopefully after that I'll institute a one-chapter-a-week kinda thing, which will be a wait off my mind.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! Any and all feedback is appreciated :)

**_Phil 5:23 PM_ **

_Hey, i’m making dinner tonight if you want any_

No immediate response. Phil hadn’t expected there to be one, though it would have been nice.

He struggled opening the doors with his arms weighed down by bags and by the time he’d finally made it to the door of his flat, Phil was red faced and sweating.

“Gah,” he muttered as he fumbled for his key.

When he entered the flat, he found Ellery eating at the table.

“Hey,” Phil said, the door falling shut behind him. He almost wished he could run back outside. He wished Marcus was beside him to bolster his courage.

“Hey!” Ellery actually seemed pleased to see him, something Phil wasn’t wholly used to seeing.

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of Ellery yet, and so he inched his way towards the cupboards, trying to get back to his room as quickly as possible and hope Ellery was gone when he had to start making dinner.

“How was your day?” Phil asked politely as he moved as smoothly as possible, mindful not to trip and make himself look like a fool in front of a stranger he had to live with.

“Good.” Ellery shoveled another forkful of food into his mouth. “Picking up a few extra shifts this weekend, which is good.”

Phil, putting his food away, hummed in agreement. “I’ll be working at the Writing Center next week.”

“No shit!” Ellery said, sounding thrilled. “That’s awesome, dude.”

Phil shrugged, but felt pleased. “Nothing big. Not as big as your news.”

Ellery waved him away. “I find comparing people’s lives an exercise in futility. Your news doesn’t compare to mine ‘cause we’re different, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay,” Phil said. He wasn’t sure he believed that.

“How was your day?” Ellery asked.

“Good,” Phil said, scrambling for something to say. “I, uh, ran into my old creative writing teacher.”

“Oh?” There was a glint in Ellery’s eyes and Phil felt uncomfortable seeing. “Did you…?”  
There was a beat of silence.

“Um,” Phil said. “I’m not sure what you’re implying, but I think it’s sexual or something.”

Ellery snorted. “Yeah, it was. They’re not your teacher anymore, right?”

“Um, no,” Phil said. “But he’s in his sixties and happily married and fosters kids and stuff I’m not interested. At all.”

“Cool, cool,” Ellery said, and Phil felt bad because he knew Ellery was just trying to connect with him, he knew that, but the air felt so stifling and thick and heavy with expectation, of connection or _something_ and Ellery didn’t _understand—_

“No, you don’t get it,” Phil said, cursing the words that kept spilling out of his wagging mouth. “I’m, uh, not interested in any of that. So. Um.”

Ellery set his fork down. “How’d you mean?”

“I’m ace,” Phil said. “Asexual. Nothing like that’s ever going to happen with me.”

Ellery shrugged, picking up his fork again. “Okay.”

“Oh. Good. Um.” Phil threw out a weak smile, finished putting away his groceries and making rather harried small talk with a genial Ellery, and fled to his room.

***

Ashley arrived at 6:30, just liked they’d planned, and Phil let her in with a tight smile and a quick, “Hello.”

Marcus and Curtis were there on their way out. Though Marcus had smiled at Phil in a way that was so warm Phil immediately felt content, the feeling had popped when Marcus said, quite apologetically, “Sorry, Phil, but we really can’t stay. There’s a wicked party a few streets down.”

“Oh,” Phil said. “Okay.”

Now Phil was awkwardly dithering between Marcus, Curtis, and Ashley as Marcus double-checked that he had his wallet before leaving.

Smiling politely, Ashley said, “I’m Ashley.”

“Marcus.”

Curtis waved. “Curtis.”

Phil shifted uncomfortably.

“Well,” Marcus said, eyeing between Phil and Ashley. “Have fun, you two.”

“Sure,” Phil said. He watched the two of them leave, the door falling shut behind them.

“So,” Ashley said.

“Right.” Phil shook himself. “Uh, sorry, I wasn’t able to get dinner done before you came.”

“It’s fine.” Ashley waved him off. “How can I help?”

Together, they made the stir fry, and, at one point, Phil set up his laptop so that it was playing a murder mystery series they both enjoyed, giving them background noise beneath the clatter of pots and utensils.

Ashley was intense. That was all Phil could think as he listened to her lecture him about what the causes of the American Civil War were in her opinion.

Phil didn’t feel all that dedicated to anything, not with the zeal and passion Ashley was expressing as she concluded, “I’d place slavery as a cause maybe three or four points down. It was a factor, but it wasn’t the complete cause.”

There had been a whole argument with various things backing her opinion up, but Phil didn’t want to say _you’re wrong, it was all about slavery. Slavery was the root the economy, the reason state’s rights were in question…_ Phil had taken a course in American history a few semesters ago. His professor had been quite clear, and the readings and documentaries Phil had perused in his own time seemed to corroborate this.

Instead, he said, “But that’s not what the Civil War was about.”

Ashley raised an eyebrow. Phil decided he liked her better when she wasn’t focused her terrifying gaze on him. He felt small in front of her, despite the fact she was almost a foot shorter than he was. “How do you mean?”

“I mean,” Phil said, “maybe you’re right and maybe it wasn’t about slavery at the time.” It was, Phil knew it was, but he didn’t want to argue with her, confront her. He ploughed on ahead, mostly unsure of what he was actually saying. “Who actually cares what the crusty white guys were thinking when they were fighting? Like, they’re dead, so what does that matter? The Civil War became about slavery later on, at least, and I think that talking about whether or not owning real actual human beings is a far more important topic to discuss than any of your points. It doesn’t matter what the white guys thought it was about—the influence in the aftermath is what it’ll be remembered by. History doesn’t always have to be factual to be learned from, and the fact that slavery is bad is a good take away.”

Ashley sat back in her chair, regarding him.

“Okay,” she said at last. “I’ll give you that.”

Phil felt a little thrill of victory, but it was overlain with an oozing sort of upset that made him want to kick her out and crawl into his bed and hide from the world.

But that didn’t happen. Instead, they talked. They talked about history, about politics, about childhood television shows, and each time Ashley opened her mouth, Phil felt overwhelmed by how much more she seemed to know about every topic.

Phil was a jack-of-all-trades sort of learner. He bounced from topic to topic as it interested him, which meant he knew a little bit about everything, but nothing too in-depth. He wasn’t the best at anything, but he was passable in most things.

Ashley was not like that in the slightest. She seemed the sort of person who found a topic and proceeded to read every single thing she could get her hands on, which was great, but it meant that Phil felt at a disadvantage most of the time during the conversation.

She was loud and brash, confidant in her knowledge and in her opinions, and though Phil felt like he did an alright job meeting her arguments, he often got derailed as she jumped in with a counterpoint. He felt a bit like she was one of those people who interrupted his thought process, like those people who would wander up to him and talk to him of he was reading or writing (he hated it when that happened—couldn't they tell he was busy and didn't want company?) and break his concentration.

Phil was trying to focus on making his point, but before he could get to the denouement, Ashley would bring in her own points and they'd get detailed. 

So, beyond the point he'd made about slavery in the USA, Phil was feeling rather unsatisfied by the whole thing.

By the time Phil insisted that she leave, it was ten o’clock and Phil felt about ready to collapse. He had wanted her to leave hours ago, but had had no idea how to tell her. He was regretting not speaking up earlier. Marcus and Curtis hadn’t returned, Ellery had left at about eight to go hang out with his friends, and Phil didn’t want to deal with any of them.

Instead, once Ashley was safely out the door and off to her flat the next block over, he crawled into his bed and fell asleep.

***

Today had been rotten. The flat was a mess of dirty, stinking dishes, there were clothes and alcohol left everywhere, and Phil’s classes had droned on until all he could think about was curling up on his bed and hiding from the world.

As soon as his last one was over, Phil drug himself off to work where he sat and tried to write, but the words just wouldn’t come, so he spent most of the hours watching YouTube videos and helping a few of the people who came in with papers that needed editing.

It was growing dark by the time Phil was finally able to go home, and he watched the way the grasses and bushes waved in the wind.

When he entered his flat, he saw Marcus and Erika getting ready to go out for the night.

“Hey, Mar,” Phil said.

“Hey, Phil,” Marcus said, not even looking at him as he searched for his keys and wallet on the cluttered table.

Phil, though he could tell he was unwanted, still hovered at the hallway between his room and the common room. “Had a good day, then?”

“Yeah,” Marcus said, flashing a quick smile at Phil.

“You wanna maybe hang out this weekend?”

“We’ll see,” Marcus promised, which probably meant no.

“Okay,” Phil said quietly. He turned and headed down the hallway to his room, opened the door, and headed straight for his bed.

Phil’s mind couldn’t shut up. It wouldn’t be quiet, it wouldn’t be silenced, and all Phil wanted to do was to sit in _silence._ He put his face into the pillow and screamed, high-pitched and drawn out.

But nobody heard him and nobody came.

And Phil couldn't find it in himself to be surprised.

Once he’d let everything out, he sat up, pulled his computer closer to him, and blocked out the rest of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes, Ashley is based on a real person and, yes, we actually had that argument about slavery. It was. Uh. Weird. Wtf.
> 
> More Dan in the next chapter! They have, like, a conversation and everything :0 Their relationship will be slow--read the tags, the slowest burn to ever burn--but their friendship, however, will start taking off soon, and I can't wait to post it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay! Vacation drama and then family drama afterwards made things ... interesting. However! I think after this chapter I'll start uploading every Friday. This is tentative--my life is still kinda messy, so I might have to post a day earlier or later--but yeah, just a heads up!

When Phil woke up, he felt like crap. His head was muzzy, his nose was clogged, and his whole body was weighed down by the sickness draping itself across him like a cloak.

He’d started to get sick on Friday, the day after Ashley had dinner with him, but he’d forced himself to attend all of his classes and do a bit of homework before collapsing into his bed and sleeping.

Phil hadn’t gotten any better on Saturday, when his dad texted him telling him that he was going to swing through town on his way to visit some relatives up north and that if Phil wanted, they could grab breakfast together.Phil agreed, excited to see his dad though it had only been a few weeks since they had last seen each other. The day was a haze, forcing Phil to sleepily stumble through his homework and drag himself out to grab a bite of food. None of the others were in, though Phil hadn’t expected them to be. By the time the sun had begun to set, Phil curled up under his blankets with a book in hand, reading until he fell asleep, hoping that when he woke up the next day, he’d feel better and he could greet his dad without sickness dangling over him.

The next morning—not so much. Phil awoke to a pounding headache and winced at the light sheen of sweat across his skin. He swung an arm to his right, finding his phone where it was plugged in and charging, and squinted at the screen.

“Crap,” he mumbled, sitting up so suddenly his head swam. Before he really processed his movements, Phil had unlocked his phone and called his dad.

“Hey,” his dad said.

“Dad,” Phil croaked. “I’m sorry, I put my phone on silent and slept right through your calls.”

“It’s fine,” his dad said. “I had to turn back around anyway. We could meet up for a quick brunch if you’d like.”

“Yes, yes, I’d like that very much,” Phil said.

“Know any good places around here?”

Phil rattled off some directions as he got out of bed, swayed, and set about for a clean set of clothes and his toothbrush.

It was eleven o’clock AM, fours hours after he and his dad had agreed to meet up. Phil felt awful for making his dad wait, sick to his stomach that even away at university, he was still a burden on them and their lives.

In record time, Phil was ready. He left his hair unstraightened, but he’d managed to sneak in a shower and was out the door and ready to meet up with his dad.

The little cafe Phil had suggested wasn’t far from campus or the main road. In fact, he’d taken his dad there once before when it was Phil’s first year at uni and he was still exploring beyond the borders of campus. Now, in his last year, Phil had abandoned such endeavors—it was always much lonelier when one explored on one’s own, and Marcus hadn’t joined him at this university yet.

Phil sounded like such a hermit, even in his own head. He couldn’t imagine what his dad, who enjoyed adventuring, must think of him. And now Phil is late to meeting up with his dad because he overslept because he’s a failure, because he can never do anything right, because—

He found his dad waiting inside, and when Phil entered his dad lit up.

“Phil!” he said, pulling Phil into a tight hug.

“Hey, dad,” Phil said, relaxing slightly now that he knew his dad wasn’t mad at him. It was all in his own head. Of course.

Phil pulled away so that they could order, and then they sat back down at the table his dad had snagged.

“You look terrible,” his dad said.

Phil let out a short laugh. “Yeah, I know. I feel terrible.”

“We didn’t have to meet if you didn’t feel up to it.”

“I wanted to see you,” Phil admitted before swallowing down a cough. He didn’t quite manage and erupted in a small coughing fit, ducking down below the table.

His dad was smiling patiently, but Phil could see the worry creasing the skin around his eyes when he came up for air.

***

Phil and his dad spent only thirty minutes together before his dad begged off, needing to get back on the road.

“Thanks for coming back,” Phil croaked to him as his dad got in the car.

“Feel better, Phil,” his dad said, the worry back at the edges of his aging face.

“I will.” Phil nodded. “Sleep all day, I will.”

His dad laughed. “Ah, takes me back to when you were a teenager. Such a short while ago…”

“Dad!” Phil laughed, the sound clogging up his scratchy throat..

His dad offers him another smile and closed the door. Phil stepped back and waved as his dad started the engine and pulled out of the parking spot, getting back onto the road and heading off.

Phil watched him disappear before turning, swaying for a moment, and making his way back to the flat buildings.

Phil usually kept his head down when walking around town, mostly so people would think he’s doing something other than expressing a need to socialize. Phil tuned out the world around him for the most part, zoning out and concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. He was desperate to get back to his room, to curl up in his bed and just … not exist for a few hours.

He didn’t look up when someone laughed or when a car started up right next to him. He was so good at tuning out the world, in fact, that he barely noticed a commotion until someone was at his elbow mumbling, “Walk, walk, walk, walk…”

Phil blinked over at the boy. It was Dan, from his biology class.

“...Hi?” he asked uncertainly.

Dan jerked his head over to look at Phil, almost as if he couldn’t see him for a moment.

“Hi,” Dan said. “Sorry. You were the only person I recognized.”

“Okay?”

Dan closed his mouth, looking away from Phil. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Phile assured him. _Everything is always fine._ “Just. Unexpected.”

“Yeah.” Dan snuck a look at him. “You look terrible.”

“I’m sick,” Phil said. “Careful, or I’ll infect you.”

Dan pulled a face. “Ew, gross. Don’t snot on me.”

“That’s _snot_ what she said,” Phil said.

“Oh my God,” Dan said, turning to look at Phil as he stared in disbelief. “That was horrible and not even good.”

Phil looked away, stomach sinking. “I’m sick, leave me alone.”

“I can’t,” Dan said dramatically. “ _Booger_ for you.”

Phil looked back at Dan, his eyebrow raised. “That was even worse than mine.”

Dan nudged Phil’s shoulder. “But you laughed.”

“I didn’t!” Phil protested.

“You looked really amused,” Dan countered.

“Shut up,” Phil mumbled with a smile, ducking his head.

Phil was sure it was just the sickness making his cheeks this warm.

They fell silent, and while Phil expected there to be a crushing need to fill the silence up, he found there was nothing. There was no overwhelming need to babble, no prompt to ramble. He could just walk in the direction of his bed with another person at his side and do it in silence.

Phil had never had something like that before.

“Thanks for walking with me,” Dan said as Phil began to peel away to get to his flats. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Phil said. “Have a good day, okay?”

Dan smiled. “Yeah. You, too. Feel better.”

Phil coughed with dramatic weakness. “I won’t. This is the end. Fare thee well.”

“Oh my God.” Dan rolled his eyes hard, and Phil giggled, his tongue poking out between his lips. He covered his mouth with his hand until he got himself back under control. He offered Dan a wave before trudging over to his flat building, slipping through the door and back into his silent solitude with relief.

***

Phil felt better come Monday, but he was feeling weird. His skin kept pickling with uncomfortableness and his skin felt stretched taut, thin and transparent. Phil wished it was a sensation contributed by his illness, but, unfortunately, it was one he'd felt many times over the last few years.

Usually it was a sign that his insecurities were yelling louder than usual, but Phil felt that this time it was because Marcus stopped by Phil's room for a few moments Sunday evening before going out with his own friends.

_“Hey,” Marcus said as he moved into the room._

_Phil looked at him from the space between his sheets._

_“You feeling any better?”_

_“No,” Phil croaked._

_Marcus felt Phil's forehead. “You aren't running a fever anymore.”_

_Phil had tried with all him might, but he couldn't squash the resentment he felt at Marcus’s concern. What did Marcus know? Three weeks into their final year, and he'd only seen Marcus a handful of times, usually at night for ten or fifteen minutes when Marcus entered Phil's room to ask after Phil before leaving him alone again. These moments were hard for Phil, who already felt he spoke too much when in the presence of others. In the span of ten minutes, he'd pour out all the little things in his life he'd normally share with Marcus the day it happened and by the time he'd be done Marcus would head for the door and Phil wouldn’t know how Marcus was doing. He’d ask, often, but Marcus would give one or two-word answers—nothing in depth, nothing like how they used to talk._

_Phil was tired of seeing Marcus leave, but he said nothing. After all, it was Marcus’s choice. Phil had no say in what Marcus did. If Marcus wanted to leave, than Phil would let him._

_So, instead of drawing attention to the way Marcus’s eyes skittered to the door when someone on the other side laughed particularly loud, Phil kept quiet._

_“I'm feeling a lot better,” Phil offered Marcus._

_“Good.”_

_Phil, who always felt awkward around people, had never felt quite this awkward around Marcus before._

_“Well,” Marcus said. “How was your dinner with Ashley?”_

_The dinner had been days ago. Phil frowned as he tried to recall what had happened and eventually answered, “Fine.”_

_“C’mon,” Marcus said. “Give me some more info. Was it fun?”_

_Phil shrugged. “I mean, we just talked about things you aren’t really interested in. History and politics and stuff.”_

_“You enjoy talking about that,” Marcus agreed and touched Phil’s arm. “And I enjoy listening. You get passionate, Phil. It’s amazing to listen to.”_

_Phil shrugged again, feeling helpless because he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say. He tried to cast about for something that would make that night more interesting for Marcus, something that might make him stay a bit longer._

_“She, uh. Was it just me, or did she seem … uh, interested?” Phil didn’t actually know if she had been or not—he wasn’t particularly good and picking up on that sort of thing because, frankly, it just didn’t happen to him very often._

_“I thought so,” Marcus said, surprising Phil._

_“Oh,” Phil said, off-balance, off-kilter. “Oh. I'll, uh, I’ll find a way to tell her that's not happening.”_

_Marcus shook his head fondly. “You'll figure it out.”_

_“Yeah, I will.”_ Without your help, I bet, _he didn’t add._

The conversation, stained with words unsaid and a burning resentment in the pit of Phil’s stomach he didn’t know how to get rid of, clouded his emotions the next day, which found him in biology slumped over his journal he was still picking away at. Line after line bubbled with his words as he cross-stitched life from graphite, and Phil's sickness-ridden brain was mesmerized by his own creations, even if they were forged in an attempt to forget his own life.

Phil wasn’t the sort of writer who could write and write and write and never grow tired of the same old thing—he needed a break, he needed to find new things to learn, to bring into his little world. This was why, with him taking a break from his novel, he began picking away at little short stories that held little interest to him but which were fun to write.

A few strokes and Phil was outlining a new alien, going with the flow, adding eyes and limbs and appendages as he saw fit and a little smile played about his lips as his lines of magic transformed from word to image and it was all the same, all just the same, all adding to this world.

“Hey,” someone said and Phil froze, blinking over to the aisle to see Dan standing there, one foot on the next step, the other, on Phil’s level, pointed at Phil.

“Hey,” Phil croaked, covering his drawing with his wrist without looking at it.

Dan scuffed his foot so that it no longer pointed at Phil. “Feeling any better?”

“Yeah,” Phil admitted. “Not, uh, one hundred percent, but more like seventy-nine? Seventy-nine point three?”

“Seventy-nine is great.” Dan smiled at him and continued climbing the stairs, tripping over one with his long legs and ducking his head in embarrassment, even though Phil was the only one around to see it.

Phil smiled after him. Dan seemed nice.

He went back to his world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGH I want them to be friends already but I need a couple more chapters of build up DX It'll happen soon! *Nervously hopes the story won't spin out of control*


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, in my time zone, I've still got a few hours until it's Saturday, so BOO YEAH! Hahaha, today was crazy, so I'm glad I could get this out! Thank you to all who read this story, who leave kudos, and who comment. It means the world to me :)

Before Phil knew it, they were a month in.

Time flew quickly, and professors began hinting at exams to see how well they'd followed the materials and if they'd done their homework.

That was why when his biology professor announced that there would be an exam the following Friday, Phil didn’t groan with the rest of his classmates, having expected such an announcement soon.

As Phil packed up his bag and slipped on a light jacket to ward off the gloom and the drizzling rain, he felt a presence at his elbow.

“Hi,” he said to Dan, a smile already on his face as he turned to look at Dan.

“Hi.” Dan swept his fringe into place as he hovered near Phil.

“What's up?” Phil asked.

“Could you help me study for the exam?” Dan blurted out. “I got sick last week, too, but, uh, in the middle of the week so I missed a few days.”

_No,_ Phil thought desperately, _I don’t want to socialize more._ Out loud, he said, “Of course. What times work for you?”

Dan fixed his fringe again. “Uh, kind of whenever? I don’t really, uh, have a life…”

“I’m free whenever, too,” Phil said. “But I work most days from three to six. Friday is what I usually have off—are you okay with studying on Friday?”

Dan shrugged. “Sure.”

Phil nodded. “Great. Then how about we meet up at three? In the library?”

Dan offered him a smile. “That sounds great, actually.”

Phil was about to offer Dan his number so Dan could text him if something came up and Dan couldn’t make it, but Dan was already stepping back, stepping away, and heading down to the ground, silently slipping out of the classroom.

Phil sighed to himself, finished packing his notebooks, and headed down the stairs.

***

Phil’s job at the writing center was great. Hardly anyone came in most days, which meant there was a three hour period where Phil could study or write his essays or even work on his own projects.

He walked into the center and made a beeline for the chair he’d claimed as his own three days into working here. There, he set his backpack down beside the chair, dug out his computer, and began to write.

Phil knew he should be working on the short essay one of his professors had assigned him, but he was in the zone to write, to huddle into a world where things made sense to him, where he had control. Phil felt so very often that he was out of control—of the people around him, of the words that spilled from his lips, from the thoughts that protruded from the crevices in his brain—that nothing satisfied him more than to step away from the real world and drift off into one of his own creation.

Just as Phil was getting into the beat of it, someone walked into the writing center. Phil kept the annoyance off his face, and instead plastered on a bland smile that morphed into a real one when he saw who it was.

“PJ!” he said, standing and carefully setting his laptop aside. “Hey!”

“Hey, Phil,” PJ said, accepting the hug Phil offered him.

“What’s up?” Phil asked.

“Well, I wanted someone to look over my script,” PJ said. “Just to make sure everything is cohesive, you know?”

Phil laughed and nodded. “I know, trust me. Do you have a hard copy on you?”

PJ nodded as he swung his bag around in front of him. “Just in here.” He pulled out a thick, stapled wad of paper. “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Phil assured him as he sat down at the table and pulled a pen from his pocket, clinking it.

“Shall I just find a place to sit?”

“Make yourself comfortable,” Phil said without looking up. “There’s loads of books, good Wi-Fi, all of that.”

He heard PJ chuckle, but Phil was already focused on the script before him.

The script was good, and though Phil made a few markings here and there, for the most part he had very little to add to it.

He sat back, groaning, and glanced at his phone. About an hour had passed, and Phil was relieved no one else had come in during that time.

“PJ,” he said.

PJ was there in just a few seconds, his grin wide and his fingers tapping at the desk.

“It’s good,” Phil said, shoving the papers over towards him. “Just a few edits. You’ve been really hammering at it.”

“I have,” PJ said. “Speaking of—want to take part in a little sketch of mine soon?”

“I’d love to,” Phil said. “Let me know when and where, yeah?”

“I will,” PJ promised. “Now, while I’d love to catch up, but I can tell you want to be writing, so I’ll let you go. But we need to go out for dinner sometime and talk, okay?”

“Works for me,” Phil said, smiling. “Shoot me a text whenever you’re free.”

PJ smiled in return, winked, and was on his way.

Phil looked after him fondly until he was out of sight, then went back to writing.

***

When Phil slipped into the flat, it was to see Marcus and Curtis and Erika and a whole crowd of other people milling about the tiny lounge area.

“Hey, Phil!” Marcus called, a sentiment echoed by Curtis.

“Hey,” Phil said as the door swung shut behind him.

There was a chorus of “Hellos” that trailed after Phil as he hurried to his room, feeling sticky and edgy with the unexpected intrusion of strangers in his flat. Their flat. _Right,_ Phil thought. They have every right to be here.

The sound of his door closing didn’t bring Phil relief. He could still hear the people on the other side of the door, could still hear their laughter and the clink of bottles as they downed shot after shot, could hear the beat of their music.

Phil shrugged off his jacket, tossed it and his backpack down on the floor, and crawled onto his bed, tucking himself away into the folds of his blanket until the world around him was muffled and soft.

Then he tugged his laptop closer to him, slipped on his headphones, and drowned out the outside world.

Phil stayed like that for hours, until he finally dared to remove his headphone to make sure no one was out there.

There were no noises—everyone must have gone out. Phil couldn’t imagine what they were doing, how it could be considered fun. It was Wednesday, they had classes the next morning. But, Phil thought as he opened his door and stepped out into the hallway, it wasn’t like _he_ was the best judge of when “going” out was acceptable.

Phil’s stomach growled at him, so he made his way into the kitchen in search for food, only to find Ellery sitting at the table

“Hey,” Ellery said, looking up from his laptop, where he was typing an essay.

“Hi,” Phil said. He’d been rather hoping no one was in, but, apparently, that wasn’t to be tonight.

“You have a good day?”

“I did, I guess,” Phil said, forcing himself to walk over to the freezer to find a small mini frozen pizza he’d bought a few days ago.

“Hey, you doing alright?”

Phil looked over to see Ellery frowning in concern.

“I’m good,” Phil said. Then paused. “Sort of.”

“I’m not going to pressure you or anything,” Ellery said. “But if you want to talk, I’m here.”

Phil weighed those words in his mind as he popped the pizza in the microwave. On the one hand, he didn’t know Ellery. On the other, he could use the advice of an impartial stranger.

He turned and rested his back against the counter. “Um. Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

Phil didn’t know how to start. He cleared his throat once, twice.

“Uh, so, Marcus,” he began. “We’ve kinda known each other for seven years.”

“That’s a long while.”

Phil raised a shoulder. “I guess. Um, he came to this uni three years ago and I mean, I was pretty happy he was here.”

Ellery nodded, squaring up in his chair to give Phil his full attention.

“I just.” Phil took a deep breath. “Last year we lived together, and it was great. We worked well enough as roommates that we thought we’d try again this year, only Curtis wanted to move in with us, too, and Marcus convinced me that was a good idea.

“And I’ve got nothing against Curtis. He’s nice and all, but since he and Marcus stayed together all this summer, now I feel like I’m intruding and Marcus isn’t really talking to me and I just…”

“Feel lonely?”

“It’s not that I’m lonely,” Phil tried to explain. “Because I’m not. It’s more like … I don’t know. Like I keep mentally preping myself to hang out and then it never happens and my energy is wasted. O-or maybe it’s not that. Maybe it’s the fact that Marcus is my closest friend, and I don’t know why he doesn’t want to be around me as much anymore? Marcus is one of the few people I feel like I connect with, you know?”

“Yeah,” Ellery said. “I know.”

“I feel bad,” Phil admitted. “Because, like, I want to be one of those good people who will give and give and give without expecting anything in return … and I don’t want anything physical, I just want to know that he’s still my friend and wants to be around me. That’s literally all I want in return.”

“That is not too much to ask for,” Ellery said firmly.

“It’s not?” Phil hated how small his voice came out. He cleared his throat. “Oh.”

“No.” Ellery’s voice had softened slightly.

“I just … I just want it to be like it used to be.”

“Talk to him,” Ellery advised, and Phil knew he would say that. Talking always seemed to fix the problems, but it was just … such a terrifying prospect sometimes.

“Yeah,” Phil said as the microwave beeped. “I will. Thanks. For listening.”

“Anytime,” Ellery said, sounding sincere.

Phil looked over at him with a smile. He wouldn’t mind being Ellery’s friend.

“And for what it’s worth,” Ellery said as Phil opened the microwave and slid his pizza onto a plate. “I can see Marcus cares about you. A lot.”

“I know.” _I just wish he’d show it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Dan and Phil start the beginnings of a friendship!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to C for being my beta!

Friday arrived without much fanfare.

Phil waved to Dan as the younger boy scooted past him during their biology course and up to his seats at the very top. Phil didn’t look up after him, but he wondered what Dan did during classes, as Phil didn’t hear him make notes very often.

After spending a class period making idle doodles and cramming his chicken scratch into the margins of pages as he listened to the professor talk, Phil felt he spent the class semi-productively.

Dan scurried down the steps before Phil had put everything away, so Phil awkwardly called down the steps after him, “See you later!”

Dan half-glanced over his shoulder, nodded minutely, and almost tripped down the stairs. Phil’s lips quirked as he saw Dan flush red and flee out the door.

Phil’s next two classes dragged by with Phil barely paying attention to the lectures and discussions going on around him, too caught up was he in tuning out the world. He wanted to work on his stories, not talk and socialize with people.

Moods like the one today were always difficult when he had to go to class. After classes, Phil had lunch and worked on an essay in a tiny booth in a corner for a few hours before he had to make his way to the library. While he hoped Dan would be there, he wasn’t holding out too much hope—after all, Dan was a fresher, and Phil was asking him to study on a Friday. Phil, from what he could recall, _never_ studied on a Friday his first year.

So, when Phil settled himself down in an open area that Dan couldn’t miss and began working on one of his essays, he was pleasantly surprised when Dan slid into the chair across from him, five minutes late.

“Hey,” Dan said, slightly winded. “Sorry. Uh. I wasn’t sure which floor you were on.”

“Yeah,” Phil said. He hadn’t thought to clarify. He flushed slightly. “Um, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” Dan offered him a smile and pushed his fringe back into place. “So, uh, I think we were doing the ecosystem last week, right?”

“Right,” Phil said, scooting closer to the corner of the table so that he could let Dan see his notes. “So, here’s what we did…”

It was easy, talking to Dan. He was attentive and engaged in the material, and Phil enjoyed the little sarcastic comments he’d make.

“The water cycle,” Phil had told Dan at one point. “Isn’t very _ice_ to learn.”

“Oh my God, you living spork,” Dan had said, staring at Phil. “That was so bad.”

“But you’re laughing!”

“That’s not the point!”

“Is, too!”

“What are we, five?”

Phil snorted. “No, but we’ll be studying for five years at this rate.”

“Oh, Philly, do you not enjoy my company?” Dan looked exaggeratedly hurt.

“Not in the slightest,” Phil said, trying (and failing, he was sure) to keep a straight face.

“Bull,” Dan said immediately. “But you’re right. Study, Philly, teach me the ways, O Wise One.”

Phil rolled his eyes as he muffled his laughter, but complied.

“I mean, it’s so interesting,” Dan said at one point. “How these sorts of things impact us. We think of nature as _separate_ from ourselves, but it’s not. I mean, I’m not, like, inspired to give up my computer or anything and become a nature hobo, but it’s still something I care about, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

Phil and Dan shared a smile with one another before Phil broke the stare and leaned back over the notes, carefully explaining another concept.

Before Phil realized it, it was already five-thirty, and they were done with most of Phil’s notes. Phil blinked at his phone’s clock and looked at Dan.

“It’s five-thirty,” he said.

Dan checked his phone. "It’s five thirty- _three._ ”

“It’s a three minute difference!” Phil protested.

“Accuracy, Phil, accuracy.” Dan shook his head sadly.

“Oh, shut up,” Phil grumbled. “I’m sorry if you need more help, but I need to go. I have another essay to write and a dinner to cook.”

Dan made a face. “Ew.”

“Welcome to college,” Phil snickered.

“Thank you,” Dan said sincerely as he packed up. “Really. I really … This was good.”

“Of course,” Phil said. “If you need anything else, let me know.”

“Can I have your number?” Dan blurted out before flushing and ducking his head down. “So … So if I get confused I can ask?”

“Sure.” Phil shrugged and held out his hand for Dan’s phone. Dan handed it over, and the black case was worn and beat.

“I’m clumsy,” Dan said defensively as Phil eyed it.

“I am, too,” Phil assured him. “I dropped my phone in the toilet once.”

Dan’s squeaked out a giggle that made Phil grin. Dan said, once his face smoothed out again, “ _Just_ once?”

“Hey!” Phil protested, but he was laughing alongside Dan.

“Anyway, thanks,” Dan said. “Maybe we could study before the test together?”

“Sure thing,” Phil agreed. “Let me know when.”

“I mean, I know you’re working…”

“Just pop into the Writing Center sometime, I’ll be there,” Phil said. “I usually do homework then, anyways.”

Dan smiled, looking relieved, and Phil couldn’t help but smile back. As they made their way out of the library, Dan peeled away in the direction of the first year halls while Phil, after gazing after Dan for a few seconds, made his way towards his flat.

***

It was filthy again. Phil blinked around at the pots of congealing food left out on the stove and the spots of dried and flaking food, the dishes piled up in the sink.

He blinked and blinked again. His stomach clenched. He tried to ignore the spilled food scattered across the floor.

Instead, he pulled out his phone and pressed the messages box. There was a pang somewhere in his rib cage at how far down he had to scroll to find Marcus’s conversation.

_Hey,_ Phil typed. _Did you and Curtis use the kitchen?_

He wanted to add, “Are you going to clean it up?” but didn’t want to antagonize Marcus or seem like he was accusing his best friend of anything, so he just pressed send and averted his eyes, making his way to his (much cleaner) room.

Phil set about getting his homework done, because if he got it done that day, then he wouldn’t have to do it later on in the weekend—he could just relax and enjoy himself.

His phone buzzed just as he sat down with the newest assigned chapter, and Phil pulled his phone closer to him, reading the message:

**_Marcus 5:03PM_ **  
_Y, ewll clean it up later_

Gnawing at his lip, Phil typed back, Ok and hit send, clicking his phone dark and tossing it onto his bed, where he couldn’t hear it vibrate.

It was Friday, and Phil knew what that meant—Marcus and Curtis would be out drinking and partying like university students actually did instead of what Phil—pathetic and hermit-like—did, which was just sit in his room and laugh to himself when he came across something funny on the Internet.

But Marcus had said they’d clean it up. Phil forced the issue from his mind and began reading the chapter from one of his old favorite books.

***

They didn’t clean it up. By the time Sunday rolled around, Phil had seen Marcus a grand total of once at one AM when Phil had been getting ready for bed.

“Hey, Phil,” Marcus had called cheerfully as Phil had left the bathroom. “Good day?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Phil had replied and watched as Marcus trooped out of his room with a few people Phil vaguely recognized following along behind him, smiling at Phil with distant eyes and postures eager for the drinking and partying to come.

Phil had watched them leave the flat and forced his mind away from the “what ifs” that always came when Marcus went out drinking, instead focusing on being reunited with his bed.

By the time Sunday rolled around, the kitchen was even more of a mess and Phil felt jittery. His knees buzzed with pent-up energy, his muscles hummed with trapped potential, and Phil knew today would be a good day to get out of the city and find a good place to walk, to get away from the flat and the gaping, oozing hole left by Marcus’s retreat.

He emptied his backpack and put in a few snacks, a water bottle, his journal, and a raincoat before zipping it up, picking up his keys and his phone, and heading out to his car.

Phil was not the best driver, never had been, but after Martyn moved away, he’d had no one to drive him to the little copse of trees where he liked to write but were just a bit too far away to want to walk to. Torn between his terror of driving and his desire to go to the woody area, Phil had started driving with trepidation. However, by the time he had to head to uni, he’d gotten good enough that his mum thought he could handle the drive. She gave him his uncle’s old car, patted his head, and told him to be safe. He had, so far, and though he wasn’t the biggest fan of driving, it did mean he could go wherever he wanted whenever he wanted.

Getting behind the wheel was familiar. Phil slid into the well-worn seats of his car and started the engine, pulling out the car park carefully. He made sure to keep note of what street he left on so he could get back, but otherwise he let himself turn in the moment, letting the surroundings wash over him.

The rows of buildings and houses eventually began to thin as Phil left the city behind and patches of green farmland replaced them. Phil hummed to himself quietly as he turned down roads on a whim and eventually found himself on a bumpy dirt road. By the time he stopped, it was midday and the clouds were at the horizon. Phil guessed he had an hour or two before they covered him, but it was fine. That was enough time.

What Phil needed more than anything was to escape. To get out away from the oppressive knowledge that there were humans all around him and just be completely alone for a bit. Phil hated how anyone could enter his room when they wanted to. He hated that he had to walk out of his room under the threat that someone might be sitting out there ready to make conversation. He absolutely hated it.

But here he took a deep breath and just began walking along the side of the road. The sun shone down on his head, the streets patterned shadows across his skin, and the sound of animals and farmers working was a distant thing.

Phil didn’t pay attention anymore to what he did. He hopped on logs, kicked at stones, trailed his fingers through leaves. Sometimes the built-up energy would rear its head and Phil would become a burst of motion, running to jump over a protruding tree root or laugh out loud at a funny thought he had, his tongue poking out between his teeth.

He didn’t have to worry about people judging him—something people said not to worry about but something that terrified Phil quite a bit regardless—he didn’t have to worry about tamping down on his “abnormal” habits. Phil could just be, here away from society, and he felt both at peace and terrified that someone would see him and the illusion would shatter.

Phil paused under the shade of a tree and unzipped his backpack, pulling out his journal and pen. He scribbled a few ideas down, a few things he wanted to focus on in his newest short story, and tucked it away again.

That was when he finally turned around, realizing he’d been walking for almost an hour. The clouds had moved closer, and the wind had gained a chilly nip.

Though Phil had to dig his raincoat out before he got to the car, he still felt far more relaxed than he had been that morning, and the drive back to campus seemed less daunting.

Phil felt a bit better.

***

The happy, contented feeling Phil had gained during his little excursion didn’t last long. The kitchen was still a mess when he returned, but Curtis was picking away at the dishes in the sink.

“Hey,” Curtis said. He tried to grin at Phil, but it was weak and disappeared quickly. Phil tried to return it, but the smile felt tense across his lips. Neither one knew each other nor shared any commonality besides Marcus’s friendship.

“Hey,” Phil said. “Thanks, uh, thanks for doing the dishes.”

“No problem, dude,” Curtis said.

“Do you know where Marcus is?”

“Off somewhere.” Curtis’s attention returned to the dishes. Phil felt smaller. “That’s all I know. He might be back soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Phil headed for his room, and already he felt suffocated. Being around people was so difficult—why was it so difficult?

_Because you’re weak._

Introverted, Phil retorted.

_You’re weak and stupid and childlike. No wonder all your friends are leaving you._

Phil shoved that thought away because it wasn’t true, it isn’t true, it was never true…

_But how would you know? After all, you live inside your head—how would you know what’s normal and what’s not? How could you know how strong or weak you really are when your only true frame of reference is your own mind?_

Phil tugged on his headphones, opened a music folder, and turned the volume up, drowning his thoughts out.

***

Phil wasn’t ready for the week to start back up. He wasn’t ready to face the people in his classes as they laughed to one another because it was over a month into term at this point and everyone in his biology class had cliqued up and everyone in his history and literature class had formed new inside jokes and references and, as always, Phil was left out.

When Marcus still paid attention to him, Phil hadn’t minded as much, because he knew that at least one other person was willing to hang out with him, and that was a enough, wasn’t it?

It used to be.

But Marcus wasn’t around anymore and, if Phil really thought about it (usually at one AM when he was trying to sleep) he’d been worried about Marcus pulling away last year, too.

Phil sidestepped a bunch of people heading out of their lecture hall, making a beeline for his biology hall as best he could.

Why had Marcus pulled away? Had he, like people before him, realized that Phil just wasn’t worth the effort? Had Marcus finally understood that he babbled too much, that he was too caught up in his own head and his own loud thoughts to truly connect with another human being, that he just wasn’t worth the effort?

So caught up in his thoughts, Phil didn’t realize that someone was sitting in his row as he climbed up the steps to his usual spot near the top.

“Oh.” Phil blinked at Dan, who was slouched three seats in, two away from Phil’s usual chair. “Hi?”

Dan flashed him a grin, fixing his fringe. “You don’t mind?”

Phil pushed away his unease and tried to look friendly. “Of course not.” He took his seat and pulled out his notebook and a pen.

“Did you forget your journal?” Dan asked. “Wait, no, sorry, that sounded creepy. It’s just I sit above you usually and I always see you writing in it and—”

“It’s fine,” Phil said, smiling slightly as he dug his journal out and opened it to his current page, which was (thankfully) mostly blank.

“What do you write?” Dan asked.

Dan looked honestly curious, and Phil was scared of answering, because what if he talked too much and Dan just smiled politely and moved away from him? It wasn’t like Phil knew Dan, but that didn’t mean he wanted to chase the boy off.

“Um.” Phil looked down at his notebook. “Kind of whatever I want?”

“Like poems?”

Phil exhaled a short laugh. “No. I’m, uh, I’m pretty bad at poetry. I’m pretty bad at short stories, too, come to think of it.”

“So what’s let?” Dan’s brow furrowed. “Novels or something?”

“Yeah.”

“You write novels?” Dan sounded impressed.

“I-I mean, it’s not like I’m published or anything,” Phil said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Dan said. “I wouldn’t have the drive to get a whole book done.”

“It’s fun,” Phil said, and before he could begin to vomit an unasked for babble, the professor walked into the room and began to speak.

“I still think it’s amazing,” Dan whispered, even though they were far enough away from the professor that no one could hear them speak. Dan had pulled out his own notebook to take notes, and Phil saw that the cover was black and covered in moons and stars.

“Cool cover,” he said instead of telling Dan, _“I’m not remotely amazing.”_

Dan startled slightly and a part of his cheek reddened slightly. “Thanks.”

The professor started talking about an upcoming exam, so Phil quickly looked over at Dan and, trying to change the subject, asked, “Do you have any plans for tonight?”

Dan took the offering. “No, not really. I don’t really have any friends.”

“I don’t either,” Phil said.

Dan stared at him. “I find that really hard to believe.”

“I mean, I have a lot of people I’m friendly with,” Phil said. “But I call them friendly acquaintances or something, since they’re people I like, but really don’t want to hang out with…”

“Oh,” Dan said.

“I have a few good friends, but only one’s really around,” Phil said. “But he’s busy this year…”

“I’m sorry about that,” Dan said.

“It is what it is,” Phil said. “I’d have thought you’d have made friends.”

Dan bristled. “What? Why?”

“You just seem like a really nice person,” Phil said.

Dan blinked. “Oh. Oh. Thanks. I guess.”

Phil offered him a tight smile, but was quite relieved when the professor told them the next part was likely to be on the exam, forcing Phil to focus on the slides.

***

The day dragged on, and when Phil finally watched the clock tick onto the last minute of his last class, he couldn’t be more relieved.

Phil’s literature courses coupled with his history course ensured he was drowning in essays, and as soon as Phil left his class he headed straight for the cafe and ordered lunch. 

As he waited for it to cook, Phil pulled out his phone, opened his Google Docs, and began editing his latest paper due in two days time. Thankfully, it was only a four-page essay, but Phil liked to get things done early so he had enough time to edit and revise as he saw necessary.

“Phil,” PJ said.

Phil looked up. “Peej!”

“Can't stay,” PJ said apologetically. “But you free this Sunday to grab lunch?”

“Yeah,” Phil said. “Twelve?”

“Perfect.” PJ gave him a wink, a smile, and a little wave before he disappeared deeper into the center.

Phil watched him go for a moment until his order was called out. By the time he returned to his table, his mind was back on his essay. He made sure the formatting was correct, he strengthened his points, and he ensured everything transitioned well.

By the time he'd eaten his meal, he'd moved onto planning his next essay. He had just set his phone down so that he could plan his thesis when someone slid into the chair opposite to him.

“Hey, Phil.”

Dan was smiling nervously at him, and Phil automatically smiled in return, wishing Dan would leave because why did people keep interrupting him? Did he just have a large neon sign posted on his back that screamed, “COME TALK TO ME!”?

Instead of making Dan feel unwelcome, Phil said, “Hey, Dan, how are things going?”

Dan shrugged. “Sorry for interrupting you.”

“It's no worries.”

Dan fixed his fringe. “Yeah, but I know how much it annoys me when people do that, so, yeah.”

Phil breathed out a laugh. “Yeah. But it's fine. I needed to take a break to think about my thesis anyway.”

“Your thesis?”

Phil nodded. “For one of my literature classes. I need to have a strong argument.”

“What's the class about?”

“Monsters. In, like, literature and media and stuff.”

Dan's eyes lit up. “No fucking way. That's an actual class?”

Phil, despite how miffed he was at Dan's intrusion, couldn't help but smile. “It's a real class.”

“That's so fucking cool.”

“It won't be offered again until two term’s time,” Phil said. “But keep an eye out, yeah?”

For some reason, Dan's eyes flicked away from Phil's for a moment.

Then Dan asked, “What are you writing about?”

As he seemed genuinely interested, Phil didn't laugh the question off.

“I'm probably going to ramble,” he warned Dan.

“That's fine,” Dan said.

“Okay.” Phil ran a hand through his hair, quiffing it on accident. “I was thinking about talking about the shift in how monsters are expressed in media. I can point to why and roughly when, but I don't have an argument.”

“What sort of argument do you need?”

“I mean, like, ‘this happened because of this,’ or ‘this links to this because of this’ and then I need to defend my argument. _Why_ did that particular event lead to some other event? _Why_ does this link to the other thing? Except, I already know when and why, really.”

“Then maybe take a look at the _how,_ ” Dan said slowly, his brows furrowing. He'd leaned forward throughout Phil's speech, looking enthralled by Phil's words. “How does each of the changes link to the changes society was going through?”

Phil bobbed his head as he pulled out a notebook and flipped it to a blank page, scribbling as he spoke. “Yeah, okay. So, I’d argue that, what, each aspect of 20th century popularized monsters can be linked towards specific societal fears due to a collective subconscious fear which both drove society closer together in their shared fears and further apart due to the racial, sexual, and ethnic implications?”

Dan blinked. “Uh, sure? That was a lot of words.”

Phil was busy writing it down. “It needs fine tuning, and I'm not sure it's a full argument, but it's definitely the start I needed…”

He looked up in time to see Dan shaking his head.

Phil frowned. “What?”

“You nerd.” It was said with such fondness that Phil smiled back at Dan, and their conversation then fell into easier topics completely unrelated to academia.

They talked about their favorite books and movies and shows. Dan even let Phil rant about Buffy for a bit though Phil, self conscious, kept his ramblings as short as he could.

However, when Dan mentioned _American Horror Story_ , Phil had to mention they'd watched it in his Monsters class.

“No fucking way,” Dan said at once. “You're shitting me. What did you talk about?”

This led to a discussion of the thematic monstrosity in _Freak Show_ , and Phil was surprised to find out he was enjoying himself. Marcus couldn't really participate in these sorts of discussion, mainly due to the fact that he enjoyed entertainment as simply that, and not a chance to analyze the implications within society reflected in the content. But, here Phil was, talking to a maybe-almost-friend about _American Horror Story_ ’s portrayal of monsters.

“No, but seriously,” Dan said, his hands flapping to help emphasize his point. “You should have looked at _Asylum_ alongside _Freak Show_ , because while the physical disabilities played the major theme in _Freak Show_ , how they treated mental patients in _Asylum_ was just as important!”

“I agree,” Phil said. “But at that point in the unit, we weren't at mental disabilities presented as monstrous, so it would really fit with our concentration on the physical manifestation.”

“Fuck,” Dan said as he leaned back in his seat. “Now I wanna watch the second season all over again.”

Phil was just about to open his mouth to say something—what, he wasn't sure, to invite Dan to watch it with him, perhaps—when he saw Marcus walking up to him over Dan's shoulder.

“Phil!” Marcus said, and he saw Dan stiffen before glancing over his shoulder.

“Hey, Marcus,” Phil said. “Dan, this is my … best friend Marcus. Marcus, this is Dan.”

“Nice to meet you,” Marcus said. “Didn't mean to scare you or anything.”

“Just surprising,” Dan said, shaking Marcus’s hand. “I'm not all that fond of people at my back.”

“I get you,” Marcus said, nodding. “Anyway, can't stop now, but I just wanted to pop over and say hi.”

“Okay,” Phil said, ignoring the pang as Marcus smiled at them and hurried off in the direction of his Society’s headquarters.

“He seemed nice.”

Phil smiled at Dan. “He's very nice. But, uh, very busy.” He felt his smile fade. “He's been really busy this semester. I've barely seen him.”

He saw Dan's face fall and hastily tacked on, “I mean, it'll change once Marcus gets used to everything.”

Dan's face tightened, but Phil appreciated the fact that he didn't point out the term was basically half over and it was looking less and less likely Marcus would become a big part of Phil's life again anytime soon.

Dan and Phil’s conversation moved from absent best friends and media analysis and moved towards the looming exam in two days.

“Could I come to the Writing Center to study?” Dan asked.

“Of course,” Phil said. “I'm there until 7.”

Dan smiled and, after a few more minutes of chit-chat, they parted ways.

Phil headed back to the dorm. Though he was exhausted by interacting with people for the last hour and a half, he couldn't deny that talking to Dan had been fun and easy—in fact, it had almost been reminiscent of Phil and Marcus’s conversations from about a year ago. However, he was also feeling rather bitter at the reminder that it was _Dan_ , not Marcus, talking to him like that.

Phil entered the flat and slunk past Curtis with a feeble, “Hello.” As he closed the door behind him, he wished he was anyone else in that moment—perhaps someone who could actually keep his friends.


	10. Chapter 10

Dan slid into the Writing Center around four-thirty, and Phil smiled brightly as he looked up, closing his laptop and sliding it to the ground.

Phil’s coworker, Cat, looked over at him with a raised eyebrow, and Phil waved her off, allowing her to go back to her own essay.

“Dan!” he said. “Hey. How’s your day been?”

“Complete shit,” Dan said as he slung his backpack to the ground and settled on the couch next to Phil.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Phil said, his smile dimming.

“I’m better now,” Dan assured him, and there was something in his voice and something in his eyes that made Phil shifted awkwardly. He hoped Dan wasn’t flirting with him—Phil felt uncomfortable at the thought, awkward and unsure how to act around Dan. Did people flirt this soon after meeting someone? Or was he all just imagining this? Did it have nothing to do with him? Or was there something else going on?

“That’s good,” Phil said, flicking his eyes away from Dan for a moment. “I’m … I’m glad to hear that.”

And he was. He’d grown to really like being around Dan, and even though Phil wouldn’t count them as friends, Dan was certainly someone Phil liked to talk to and listen to.

“You know,” Dan said as he looked around the room. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in here. What do you guys do?”

The Writing Center was a cozy space carved out of the bottom floor of one of the buildings dominated by the English department. It was just big enough for bookcases to line the walls stacked with classics and reference books. There was a counter with a coffee machine and a microwave as well as cupboards for the candy refills—which, to be honest, were mostly eaten by the employees. A few computer terminals were scattered about, and a few tables in a row were stretched in the middle, where students could bring their papers to be looked over.

The area where Phil was sitting was a little corner towards the back under the bay windows, which looked out at the undersides of the outside stairs that led up to the second floor. Despite this, however, some dull grey light filtered in on a squashy couch, some cushy chairs, and a low table where computers were often placed.

It was the place Phil liked to wait between students trickling in in search for help, and his chair, which he’d claimed when he’d first started working here, was comfortable and soft and he often couldn’t wait to start writing in it.

Was that weird? Who knew—Phil never had a good reference for what was weird or not in his life.

“So,” he said in answer to Dan’s question. “The Writing Center is a place where students can come for help on whatever writing they’ve got. It doesn’t matter what department or even the content or length of the piece—we’ll look it over and give feedback depending on what the student needs. Sometimes we do grammar, sometimes formatting, sometimes general feedback about the content, you name it.”

“This is cool,” Dan said. “I wish I’d come here earlier in the year.”

“I never asked,” Phil said, looking at Dan curiously. “But what are you studying?”

“Law.” Dan couldn’t have sounded less thrilled if he tried. “I hate it.”

“It could get better,” Phil said quietly.

“We’re almost halfway through term,” Dan said. “I don’t think it’s going to get much better than this, if I’m honest.”

“You ever consider changing your degree?”

“That’s a whole long process,” Dan said. “And I don’t even know what I’d study if I did do that. I’m not really passionate about anything, and none of the degrees really speak to me, you know?”

Before Phil got a chance to try and give any empty, generic placations, Dan took a deep breath and said, “So, study for our exam?”

“Sure,” Phil said, reaching for his backpack and pulling out his notebook and a few notecards. “Have you looked over the study guide?”

“I glanced at it,” Dan admitted. “But didn’t read all the questions. I was kind of packing for a law exam yesterday.”

Phil winced. “I’ve heard horror stories.”

“They’ve probably toned it down for sensitive ears like yours.”

“Hey!” Phil shoved at Dan. “Rude!”

Dan giggled and Phil could help but smile at him before glancing down at his notecards. “Okay, so, let’s start with ecosystem services…”

***

By the time Dan packed up and left, Phil’s shift was nearing its end and his stomach was helpfully reminding him that he needed to eat soon.

He'd meant to go to the store earlier that day, but had instead chosen to play games on his phone for an hour, which meant he didn't have enough food for a good dinner.

With a sigh, Phil dragged himself to the University Center, where a little cafe place sold sandwiches and paninis.

“Hi, Deborah,” he greeted the cashier after reading her name tag.

Deborah, a tired student with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, returned the sentiment without much energy, much as Phil had expected from a college student stuck on the night shift. After placing his order, Phil went to the little sitting area to wait for his food.

Sitting there, Phil didn't have a particular want to do anything, but he was conscious of the fact that he looked odd just sitting and staring at the wall, so he brought out his phone and went halfheartedly onto the Tumblr app.

As he scrolled through various fanart, animal videos, and text posts, he wondered if he was happy.

The immediate answer wasn't “yes,” but, it also wasn't immediately “no.” Before he could figure out the answer, his name was called and he went off to grab his food.

***

Phil arrived to his biology class fifteen minutes early and found Dan already there, going over his notes.

“Hey,” Dan said without looking up. “Ready?”

“We'll find out,” Phil replied as he slid into his own seat and pulled out his note cards.

They sat in silence as they studied, and the whole lecture hall remained quiet, too, as papers rustled and voices mumbled under their breath.

When the last few stragglers and the professor finally walked in, Phil set his note cards aside and got his pen ready.

“Notes away,” the professor announced, and a few grumbles sounded as people tucked their knowledge away.

Phil shared a glance with Dan, and each gave the other a supportive smile before preparing themselves.

The exam absorbed Phil’s attention as he bent over the paper and scribbled away at the answers, letting the flow of knowledge wash over him. While there were a few he didn't know, Phil felt confident in his other answers, and by the time he looked up, having finished and checked over his answers, he felt confident that he'd get a decent grade.

Dan had left, apparently. Phil tried to ignore the pang of sadness when he saw the empty seat. Still, he stood up, packed up his bag, and made his way down the steps to pass his exam over to the professor, who dismissed him quietly.

Phil left the room, making his way out into the hallway.

There was a little alcove near the stairs that Phil usually passed without a second glance, but just as he walked by it, Dan slid out if it.

“Dan!” Phil said. “I thought you'd have left!”

Dan shrugged. “Wanted to wait for you. Do you have another class?”

“Yeah,” Phil said. “Two more. In a row.”

Dan winced. “Well, rip you.”

“Rip me?”

Dan grinned as they headed down the stairwell. “Yeah, like ‘R.I.P.’”

Phil shook his head. “And you call me weird.”

“What?” Dan squawked. “I'm perfectly normal!”

“Oh, I'm sure,” Phil said, holding the exit door open for Dan.

Dan rolled his eyes, and he looked at Phil so fondly that Phil couldn’t help but beam at him.

“Anyway,” Dan said as he followed Phil to another building, where Phil’s next class was being held. “I was wondering what sort of movies and shows you watched.”

“Oh,” Phil said. “Uh, I’m actually pretty terrible at watching shows and movies.”

“Yeah?” Dan didn’t sound like he was teasing Phil.

Bolstered by this, Phil said, “I mean, if I get really into something, I’ll watch it. But, I mean, it has to really hold my interest.”

“Like a fandom?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Phil half-shrugged. “I dunno. I usually watch an episode or two of something and then stop watching it. I prefer reading to watching anything, you know?”

“That’s fine,” Dan said. “I was just curious about your tastes.”

“Horror,” Phil said. “It’s fascinating. I, uh, also like some fantasy and murder mystery.”

“What, like CSI?”

Phil glanced away from a moment. “Well, um, more like _Poirot_ and stuff.”

Dan tilted his head. “Isn’t there a movie coming out soon about that?”

Phil let out a breath between his lips. “Yeah. I have, uh, issues with that movie.”

“It’s not even out yet.” Dan sounded quite amused.

Phil grimaced. “I won’t go into that. Uh, anyway. I’ve only met, like, two or three people in our age group who like that sort of thing, so I won’t subject you to it.”

“I want to try it,” Dan said. “Here, how about we meet up tonight. You show me one episode of _Poirot_ , and I’ll show you the first episode of an anime I’m currently watching. Wait.” Dan looked worried. “Do you like anime?”

“I like it well enough,” Phil said. “But, like I said, I’m pretty terrible at actually watching stuff.”

“Okay,” Dan said. “You okay with tonight?”

“Tonight is fine.”

They’d stopped in front of the building which housed his next class. One of Phil’s hands rested on his backpack strap, and he and Dan faced one another as the watery sunlight pattered down on them.

“Cool.” Dan shifted on his feet. “Then I’ll see you tonight. Do I have your number?”

“I don’t think so…” Phil dug out his phone, unlocked it, and passed it over to Dan. As Dan entered his number, Phil said, “Six work for you?”

“Yeah,” Dan said as he passed Phil’s phone back. “Six is perfect.”

***

“Aaand, cut!” called out PJ’s voice.

Phil sat up and awkwardly patted at his back, trying to get bits of soil off of his shirt. Filming with PJ was fun, but when PJ texted him out of the blue during his last class asking him to film a short ( _it’ll only take an hour i swear_ ) Phil couldn’t say no. So, there he was, pretending to be the victim of a zombie killed horribly in a darkened room in the basement of the soft sciences building.

“Okay, think that was great,” said PJ, looking down at the shot.

The zombie, a blue-haired girl with loads of really good make, grinned. “Awesome!”

“If you need another shot, let me know,” said Phil. “Dying’s a lot of work, you know, and I wanna be prepared.”

The zombie laughed and PJ cracked a smile over his camera. “I think we’re good, Phil, thanks tons.”

“Think nothing of it,” said Phil before affecting a tragic tone. “I’ll just lay here, wasting away, until you need me again!”

The zombie cackled again.

“Get outta here,” PJ laughed. “Go do homework or something.”

Phil stood up and saluted. “Aye, aye!”

“I like him,” he heard the zombie say as he left the room. “He’s funny.”

The door closed before he could hear anything else.

***

Phil had a routine, and it was a routine for a single person. Anyone trying to meet with him or do anything with him was a Disruption, which stressed Phil out, since he knew what he wanted to do and it was a solitary sort of life.

Dan was a Disruption. Marcus was a Disruption. Even his family was a Disruption, and Phil wished he could consider Dan as a nice intrusion, but all he could think was _Disruption alert!_

By the time six o’clock rolled around, Phil had cooked some frozen pizza and gotten his Netflix account up, ready to play _Poirot_. He felt awkward, having it up on his screen. When he was alone in his room, he could enjoy whatever he wanted. People’s opinions, their judgements, none of the reached him within the safety of his room. He could stop acting in front of others, drop his mask, and just let himself _be_ , and Phil never felt more free, more safe in his room.

He could watch what he wanted, read what he wanted, do what he wanted. He didn’t have people around him telling him, “Oh, you should really read this,” or “Oh, you should really watch that,” because none of it mattered since all that Phil had to worry about was what he was in the mood to do.

It was freeing. It was liberating.

Which made Phil nervous about Dan’s intrusion into his space.

What if Phil got tired of company? That happened all the time. Phil could keep smiling, keep laughing, while all the time inside he was just screaming at his guests to _go away and leave me alone!_

He didn’t want that with Dan. He liked Dan and, for some reason, Dan liked him. What if Dan now found him boring because Phil liked not-action-packed murder mysteries? What if Phil thought his room had too many knick knacks? What if Dan didn’t want to leave, which meant that Phil would have a repeat of Ashley, where he was too anxious to ask his guest to leave even though he wanted them to get the hell away from him? He also wanted to just … _talk_ to Dan, but Phil hated the desire to spill all his thoughts to Dan as if that might make him stay and like Phil.

Spilling yourself to a practical stranger never made them stay. It only made them run.

But God, did Phil want someone to talk to.

Phil often felt like shouting, like screaming. He never did, not even into his pillow, because that would be rude and pointless. What was the point of vocalizing his upsets? His life was so much better compared to other people’s. He had nothing to complain about.

And so he kept quiet, he smiled, he acted okay, and whenever people asked him what was going on in his life, he downplayed it with a joke and a grin because no one wanted to see Phil Lester upset. No one wanted to see their happy ball of sunshine down. No one wanted him to be the child who saw monsters under his bed.

They just wanted him to be happy, and so Phil made sure he was happy as often as he could muster up the energy.

Phil’s thoughts spiraled out of control, growing louder and louder as they pounded away at the insides of his brain. They howled their negativity at him, tightening their cord around his throat until he had to remember to breathe. They raked across his eardrums, they punctured their words into his heart.

Phil shuddered as he finished setting his room up for a guest, and then he sat down on his bed and pressed his lips together, quelling any sound that might escape. He made sure to breathe through his nose, made sure to relax his muscles. He tried to think of happier things, but those thoughts drifted before him as fine as a gossamer web, easily blown away by his chaotic thoughts.

A knock at the flat door sounded, dragging Phil out of his thoughts, and he pulled himself to his feet as a second knock sounded.

“Coming!” he called.

He opened the door to see Dan and Ellery. Ellery looked sheepish, and he said, “I forgot my keys.”

“It’s fine.” Phil stepped back and allowed them both to get inside before letting the door close behind them. A plastic bag crinkled from Dan’s hand as he moved inside.

“Nice place…” Dan said.

It wasn’t. It remained undecorated, as none of them had tried to hang anything up. The most there was was a few Christmas lights either Curtis or Marcus had strung across the window, and even then most of the lights were burned out.

The dishes were once again left out, and though Phil had tried to clean the stove and counters, he was aware that he didn’t manage to get everything.

“Uh,” Phil said as Ellery moved past him and down the hall. “Want to come to my room?”

“Perfect.”

Dan followed Phil as Phil led him to the very end where his room was, letting Dan go in first.

“This is nice,” Dan said, sounding far more enthusiastic as he looked around.

It had been almost two months since Phil had moved in, and Phil had transformed his room into a haven.

His blue and green comforter was fluffed, his bed covered in pillows. The little nook at the end of the bed now held a bean bag chair with a columns of crates stacked sideways like cubby holes, which Phil had filled with books. There was a comfortable rug on the floor, a vase filled with sticks and draped in fairy lights, and enough art tacked up on the walls that it didn’t look bare, yet also wasn’t overwhelming to look at.

Phil had taken his bedside table—which was actually a TV table—and placed it in front of his bed with his computer placed on top of it. On his desk was the pizza and a few snacks.

“Thank you,” Phil said. “Uh, sit down?”

Phil didn’t have a couch, so he gestured to the bed. Dan sat down at the very edge, stiff.

“You can relax.” Phil sprawled next to him, hoping to encourage Dan to slump. “It doesn’t matter.”

Dan did relax, but he didn’t lie down. “What do you want to watch first?”

“Let’s do _Poirot_ ,” Phil said. “That way, if you get bored, we can stop and watch your show.”

“What if you don’t like my show?”

“Then,” Phil climbed onto his knees and leaned over his computer, “we browse and find something we do want to watch.”

Dan looked over Phil’s shoulder as Phil pulled up _Poirot._

“Pull over the pizza before it gets cold,” Phil said as he clicked about. He saw Dan reach over to the desk and grab the serving platter the pizza was on.

“Pepperoni, yasss.”

“Did you just say ‘yas’ out loud?” Phil snickered.

“Leave me alone,” Dan said. “Memes are my life, okay?”

“Sure, sure,” Phil said. “So, what do you want to watch?”

“Let me see the blurbs,” Dan ordered, tugging the computer closer to him with a slice of pizza held in one hand.

Phil watched as Dan clicked through a few episodes, humming under his breath.

He stopped at one and looked over at Phil. “This is the one the movie’s about?”

Phil saw that he’d brought up _Murder on the Orient Express_. “Yeah.”

“Let’s watch it,” Dan said. “That way, if you see the movie, I’ll have half a clue what you’re talking about.”

“The movie isn’t coming out until November,” Phil mumbled as he clicked the episode and settled back against his pillows.

Dan joined him and nudged Phil’s side. “I mean, I’m not planning on moving to France or anything between now and November.”

Phil laughed, but hushed Dan as the episode began.

During movies and shows, Phil liked quiet interspersed with conversation, but as he wasn’t sure what Dan liked, he kept silent. His eyes were half-lidded under the familiarity of the storyline, but he made sure to glance over at Dan every now and then to make sure Dan wasn’t suffering boredom in silence.

“Huh,” Dan said after Poirot left the cabin with the dead body. “So, like, this is like old school Sherlock, instead of the BBC or Warner Bros versions.”

“Yeah,” Phil said. “I’m kinda scared they’re going to turn the movie into an action adventure when that’s not really what it’s about.”

“It’s what people want to see now,” Dan said. “They’re going to turn it into action. Sorry, want me to shut up?”

“No,” Phil assured him. “It’s fine. Are you bored yet?”

Dan shot him a glance. “Are you just waiting for me to reject this show?”

Phil bit his lip, but said, “Yes.”

Dan shook his head, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “You dork. It’s interesting. Intellectual. Dunno if I’d go out of my way to watch this, but I want to know who killed the guy now.”

“You won’t be able to guess,” Phil said.

“Ha!” Dan sat up a bit. “Is that a challenge?”

“Yeah,” Phil said. “It is.”

“Accepted.” There was a glint in Dan’s eyes that made Phil giddy, and he covered his smile as they settled back.

This time, Dan filled the air with observations and snarky remarks about the characters, trying out different theories and doing his best to make sense of Poirot’s observations.

By the end of it, when the solution was revealed, Dan practically shouted.

“What the fuck!” he said. He turned to Phil, wide-eyed. “I didn’t know that was an option!”

Phil burst into laughter, and when Dan landed a series of light punches on his arm, he only laughed harder.

“Sorry!” Phil gasped. “But you were getting close, at least!”

“Argh,” Dan said, slumping back over the pillows. “That was just … What a ride. I mean, again, not something I’d seek out, but I can see the appeal.”

That warmed Phil, and he was glad he was sitting in the darkened room so that Dan couldn’t see.

From there, as promised, they moved onto an anime Dan chose— _One-Punch Man_ —which Phil enjoyed immensely.

However, by the time the credits rolled out, he and Dan were too engrossed with talking to stop it from moving onto the next episode.

“Do you think, as an English major, I have a list of books I think people need to read?”

“Yeah…” Dan said.

“No,” Phil said. “It’s entirely up to the person. I don’t actually care if you’re into Gothic poetry or—or dolphin space operas, just so long as you’re reading…”

Dan had burst into laughter. “ _Dolphin space operas?_ ”

“Hey, no judging,” Phil said, playfully pushing him. “Some people might be into that!”

They dissolved into laughter, falling back on Phil’s sheets and muffling their giggled with their hands or against the blankets.

“No, but really,” Phil said. “It does matter, so long as whatever you’re reading or watching or whatever makes you happy.”

“Is that one of the reasons you’re so far behind on pop culture?”

“Yeah.” Phil shrugged, pushing down the minimal embarrassment that always accompanied a statement like that. “If it’s not something I want to watch, I don’t watch it. Simple as that. I don’t get why people feel the need to force themselves to watch stuff.”

“Life’s too short,” Dan said. “If you don’t do what you enjoy, then what even is the point?”

“Yeah,” Phil said and smiled at Dan, who smiled right back. “Yeah, exactly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I love writing Dan and Phil's conversation, to hell with the rest of all this weird angst stuff my brain puked out.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all, I'm so sorry this is late and isn't the longest chapter ever. This week has been ... meh. Hope you enjoy!

Phil heard sobbing.

At first, he thought it was a pop-up on his computer, but he checked all of his tabs and then, finally, his volume control and found no sound was playing. When he removed his headphones, the sound only got louder.

Curious, Phil peered down the hall to see Curtis sitting in front of the door, apparently preventing anyone from entering … or leaving.

Phil walked down the hall to see Marcus curled up on the couch, sobbing. It was clear he’d been drinking, and his disheveled appearance was made more pronounced under the glare of the lights and the strangeness of one AM.

Stepping cautiously, Phil drew closer. It broke his heart to see Marcus crying and, when Marcus didn’t look at him, he sought out Curtis’s eyes in hopes for some answers.

“Erika turned him down,” Curtis said, and Marcus wailed louder. “One of the people they’d been hanging out with—Mark—told us that he was divorcing his current wife and Erika felt she would fit better with him.”

“Oh no,” Phil mumbled. He wanted to go over and wrap Marcus up in a hug, cradling his best friend to his chest and soothing him as best he can. He didn’t, though; he didn’t know anymore if his touch would be welcomed.

“Marcus took it hard,” Curtis said needlessly. “I think he was going to choose Erika instead of Jill.”

Curtis’s lips twisted at that, and Phil knew Curtis prefered Jill over Erika; he thought Jill was better for Marcus in the long run, but Phil was just having a hard time coming to terms that Marcus seemed so broken up over Erika.

_He wouldn’t act that way if your seven-year-long friendship was over_ , a snide voice whispered, and Phil pushed it away because Marcus needed him now—Phil couldn’t afford to have selfish thoughts.

So, as much as he wanted to wrap Marcus up in a blanket and distract him from this heartbreak, they had been away from each other long enough that Phil wasn’t sure what Marcus needed. He took a seat at the dining room and tried to remain calm and open, to project a soothing reassurance for Marcus that _I’m still here, if you need me. If you want me. I’m still here._

Phil wasn’t sure how long the crying went on, only that Marcus stumbled to his feet at one point to throw up and mumbled, “Where’s my phone?”

“Why do you want it?” Curtis asked.

“I-I need to send Erika a text. I-I n-need to…”

“No.” Curtis’s voice was firm. “You’re drunk and it’s two AM. You can send something in the morning after you’ve both calmed down.

“No!” Marcus protested. He didn’t acknowledge Phil’s presence, his attention on Curtis and his own indignation. “I n-need to do this!”

“In the morning.” Curtis was unmoving, and Marcus backed down under Curtis’s stare, retreating once more into the bathroom to retch.

The door handle jiggled and Curtis scooted forward so that Ellery could slip inside.

Ellery’s eyes traveled from Curtis, sitting on the floor, blocking the door, to Phil, sitting at the table mutely.

“What’s going on?” Ellery asked.

“Marcus got dumped by Erika,” Curtis said as Ellery stepped fully inside. Curtis scooted back to block the door again. “Marcus is taking it hard.”

Concern colored Ellery’s face, and when Marcus emerged from the bathroom a few seconds later, Ellery just said, “Do you need a bag? Some water?”

“Please.” Marcus sat on the hard floor while Ellery hunted down a bag. Phil, feeling completely useless, got up to grab Marcus a glass of water.

“Thank you,” Marcus croaked as Phil handed it over to him.

“Of course.” The smile felt forced on Phil’s face, but he doubted Marcus noticed.

Phil returned to his seat and tried not to make it seem like he was staring at Marcus, even though the worry was nearly overwhelming. 

The thing was, he didn’t drink. He didn’t smoke. He didn’t party. He didn’t date. None of this was even remotely in what could be considered “his territory,” and, as a result, he felt faded in this setting, as if he was a ghost watching the movements of the living and wishing he could join in.

Had this ever happened to Marcus before? Curtis was the partier, the one who went with Marcus on the weekends to have fun while Phil stayed behind on his computer alone in his room and completely content. How many times had Curtis seen Marcus so emotional? Phil certainly couldn’t remember when he last saw Marcus in tears—Marcus wasn’t one to express copious amounts of emotion around Phil, not unless it was true happiness or excitement.

Phil felt more and more like a failure. Had he ever really been able to give Marcus what he needed? What he wanted?

Why had Marcus stayed with Phil?

The minutes dragged on until Marcus had emptied his stomach and downed a bit of bread and a lot of water and allowed Ellery to pull him into his room and to his bed.

Phil watched them go, detached, and looked over at Curtis, who was now lying down on the floor, exhausted.

“Let’s get to bed,” Phil murmured, his voice cracking after his bitter thoughts and his prolonged silence.

Curtis nodded in a daze and dragged himself to the couch where he flopped down. Phil headed towards the sink, where he brushed his teeth. Phil did his best to avoid his reflection until he was done.

He rinsed out his mouth and hurried into his room, closing the door on Ellery’s mumbled, “Goodnight.”

There, he climbed into his bed, reached over for his lamp, and turned it off.

The phone on his bedside table read 3AM.

He had never felt so alone.

***

The next morning, Marcus apologized.

“I never wanted you to see me like that,” he told Phil as Phil left the bathroom. “I’m sorry you did.”

“It’s fine,” Phil said, because it was. “Really. I’m just more concerned about you. With Erika.” He winced—should he have mentioned that?

Marcus’s smile was tight and it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks. I’ll figure it out.”

The “ _without you_ ” went unspoken, but they both heard it anyway.

“Oh,” Phil said. “Um. Good.”

It was Sunday, and Phil had nearly forgotten that he and PJ were going to hang out when PJ sent Phil a text, simply saying _on my way!_

Cursing, Phil gathered up his wallet, his ID, and his phone before slipping out of the flat to go meet PJ and doing his best to ignore how Marcus and Curtis were talking in low, serious tones.

“Phil!” PJ greeted him with a smile and a hug, and Phil was so glad PJ was here. It was nice to see someone smile at him.

“PJ,” Phil said. “Hey. Where do you want to go?”

“Cafe work for you?”

“Sounds perfect,” Phil said freverently. He’d skipped coffee that morning to get away quicker and he needed coffee right then. Gallons, if possible.

They fell into step beside one another as they made their way away from campus, striding into the adult world with its cars and its costly expenses and all the problems they’d have to worry about soon enough and away from the college where almost-adults worried about homework, dating, clubs, and budgeting.

“So, how have you been?” PJ asked. “I hope everything's going okay. And thanks for the help Wednesday.”

“Um,” Phil said. “No problem. Things are going okay.”

He felt PJ’s eyes on him. “But not very good.”

“I don’t know, Peej,” Phil said. “I’m … I don’t know. Something happened with Marcus last night and I feel crap about it.”

PJ had been Marcus’s roommate when Marcus had first arrived on campus, and Phil knew that PJ cared just as much for Marcus as Phil did, though PJ saw less of Marcus than Phil did.

“Is everything okay?”

Phil blew out air before running his hand through his hair. “It’s been rough.”

“I’m all ears.”

Phil was silent as they entered the cafe, speaking only when placing his order. He and PJ managed to find a spot and slide in.

“So, Marcus wanted to get with Erika,” Phil said once they were settled. Phil was fluctuating between being relaxed at the familiar presence of PJ and the stress of ensuring he didn’t make a fool of himself in front of one of his last remaining friends. His skin prickled and he wished Marcus was there to fill up the silence with his easy charisma.

“I remember something going on last year,” PJ prompted when Phil had remained silent too long.

“Sorry.” Phil flashed him a smile. “Long night. Uh, anyway. Erika was making some moves last night, I think, but apparently she decided she wanted to be with this guy named Mark instead of Marcus, who she’s been interested in since last term.”

“Ah.” PJ didn’t look angry or upset, keeping his expression calm. Phil appreciated it.

“Yeah, so, Marcus took it hard, because I think he really liked her back. So, he got drunk and I heard him crying about it and I stayed there until Marcus went to bed at three and now I’m wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do. Marcus apologized to me this morning, as if I needed a ‘sorry’ because his heart got stabbed last night! I just.” Phil rested his head on his hands. “I just want him to be okay and I don’t want him thinking he can’t come to me if he needs me, you know?”

“He respects you, mate,” PJ told Phil. “That’s all. I respect you. I wouldn’t want you to see me shit-faced or high or anything.”

_Why the hell not?_ Phil bit his tongue. Nothing PJ said made sense. Why would anyone respect him? And what did “hiding” anything have to do with it? Phil knew the people around him smoked. He knew they drunk. He’d seen people passed out in their own vomit before. He didn’t think any less of his friends because of it, so what did it matter? Phil wasn’t the sort of person people should look up to because it would just leave them lonely, a step apart from the rest of the world, and desperately wishing to connect to someone, anyone. Why would anyone think he was someone worth the bother of hiding something he already knew they did?

What about him made people want to hide from him? What about him made people think they needed to present only the best of themselves to him, leaving him feeling unconnected to the people around him because he didn’t truly _know_ them?

Yet another thing he didn’t understand about people.

“If he respects me,” Phil said instead of trying to attempt to vocalize his thoughts, “then why isn’t he hanging out with me anymore?”

PJ tried to find an answer for Phil, but there was no answer.

They sat in silence for a long few moments.

“In other news, I think I did well on my bio exam,” Phil offered, and PJ latched onto the out, their conversation spinning off to other, easier topics.

Phil wasn’t the sort of person who could hide whatever emotions he was feeling. He couldn’t hide it when something was bothering him. But he could minimize it. He could distract, deflect. People gladly took the numerous outs he provided them, because no one really wanted to see him upset—they all wanted to see Phil a happy ray of sunshine and, for the most part, Phil tried to give that to them.

After all, if he made people happier simply by appearing to be a carefree, upbeat person, then who was he to deny them one small sliver of contentment in this depressing world?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah. This is by far not the best story I've ever written, but a lot of it was written as events similar to these were going on around me this time last year. I didn't want to change anything too much from what I'd already written in the spirit of my past self was in a really crap place. That being said, I do want to thank everyone who comments and leaves kudos--it's really awesome :)

It was almost a relief to see Dan after the drama of Phil’s weekend. Dan hadn’t moved back to his old spot at the top of the hall, and when Phil slid into his usual seat—the spot between them was used to hold their bags—he gave Dan a soft smile, which Dan returned.

“Good weekend?” Dan asked.

Phil shrugged noncommittally. “It was. Glad it’s over.”

Dan pulled a face. “Ugh, yeah, but now we have school. Fuck.”

Phil couldn’t help but grin. “I guess.”

“I mostly just played Halo this weekend,” Dan said. “Did you do anything more exciting?”

“Not really,” Phil said. “Watched some YouTube, did some writing, hung out with a friend.”

“Marcus?”

“Not so much. PJ. Have you met him?”

“Which department is he in?”

“He’s a theater guy,” Phil said.

Dan raised his eyebrows, looking so sarcastic that Phil began to laugh. “A ‘theater guy?’ And that’s the official term, right?”

“Right,” Phil said, muffling his laugh behind his hand.

Dan shook his head, smiling fondly. “You dork. You complete and utter dork. No, I don’t know PJ, but if you know and like him, then I’m sure he’s a cool guy.”

“He really is,” Phil agreed.

“Anyway,” Dan said. “I was hoping we could watch something again together. I had a lot of fun.”

“Oh,” Phil said. “I’m glad to hear that. I … I really enjoyed it, too.”

“Want to do it again?”

Phil ducked his head a bit. “Well, I do have to watch _The Witch_ for one of my classes…”

“ _The Witch_?”

“Made a couple of years ago,” Phil said. “It’s supposed to be horror and suspense, and the characters speak in Middle English or something.”

“Sold,” Dan said instantly. “Six again?”

“Yeah.” Phil felt something warm in his chest. “Six is perfect.”

***

Though _The Witch_ was on in the background, about halfway through Dan and Phil just began talking to one another.

“I was kind of on my own most of my teenage years,” Dan said. “Parents were working and didn’t really have time for me and my brother. I was fine though—I mean, I had the internet. That always helped things along, you know? It was like—God, this sounds pathetic—but it was like having friends and I was fine, you know?”

“I don’t really, but I know what you mean,” Phil said.

Dan groaned. “Of course you wouldn’t. You were probably really well-liked at school, weren’t you?”

“I mean, no one _hated_ me,” Phil said. “I think they thought I was … nice enough, I guess, that I just wasn’t worth the time. I had a few close friends that I hung out with, but, for the most part, people left me alone. I just didn’t really, uh, get what everyone else did.”

At Dan’s blank stare, Phil repeated his words over in his head and ducked his head down.

“Sorry,” he said. “That didn’t make any sense. Like, okay, I was never up-to-date with anything going on in the world of celebrities or on the internet, and what everyone wanted to talk about—which was, like, crushes and stuff—I never really had any opinion on. So I was nice enough no one wanted to bother me, but I wasn’t interested enough for a lot of people to want to know me.”

“But you had a few good friends,” Dan said.

“Yeah, I guess,” Phil said. “But how long is that going to last?”

He could see Dan frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” Phil said. “Just … one of them, I’ve known him for seven years, and now he’s … pulling away, I think. So if he’s doing that, then how long is it going to be until the rest of them leave me, too? Like I said, I’m not really interesting enough for people to want to get to know me.”

“I think you’re interesting.”

Though Phil wanted to believe that with all his might, he couldn’t bring himself to. “Maybe.”

“No.” Dan touched Phil’s arm, a soft touch that was barely there. “You are.”

Phil breathed out through his nose and repeated, “Maybe.”

He didn’t want to keep talking about this—he didn’t want Dan to try and compliment him, because Dan didn’t know Phil well enough to _really_ know him. It was just going to make Phil feel awkward and like he was fishing for praise when he really, really wasn’t.

“So,” he said before Dan could try and continue. “What was your favorite class?”

Dan paused, but took the opening Phil had provided, as everyone did.

After all, no one wanted to see cheerful, childish Phil down.

***

_**Ashley 12:59 AM**_  
_want to hang out?_

Phil blinked down at the text, which he’d opened just now after his morning alarm had woken him up. He was still in bed, propped up on his elbow with the sheets and comforter pooling around his middle. 

Who was awake that late who also had the desire to hang out with people? Lots of people, Phil was sure, though the concept seemed foreign to him. Why be outside when he could be alone in his room? 

...Which sounded really lonely, even in his head, though Phil meant it as sincerely as possible. 

_Sorry,_ he typed. _Was asleep. You ok?_

There was no immediate response, but Phil hoped she was okay as he pushed off his covers and climbed out of bed.

As he got ready for the morning, Phil tried not to think about whether or not Ashley was or wasn’t okay. What if she’d needed a ride? What if she’d needed help? What if she’d been with someone who made her feel threatened or uncomfortable?

The possibilities were endless, and each one made Phil more and more uncomfortable, until he started glancing at his phone every few minutes.

A text did come through, and a confusing cascade of thoughts clashed in Phil’s head. Was it Ashley? Was it Marcus?

It was Dan:

**_Dan 8:19 AM_ **  
_why am i awake this is cruel &unusual_

Phil smiled, but his mind was distracted as he typed out, _You’ll live! :3_

**_Dan 8:20 AM_ **  
_you dork :)_

Phil didn’t think that needed a response, so he set his phone down again and went hunting for some cereal.

Ashley didn’t reply to him until halfway through his last class.

**_Ashley 12:45 PM_ **  
_Hey, it’s all good. Was just having a crap night and was reaching out to friends. I’m ok._

_Good,_ Phil replied, glancing furtively at the professor as he typed. I was worried. _But everything is ok? Do you want to hang out?_

He clicked “send” before he really had a chance to think through what he just wrote.

Just as the lecture was wrapping up, Phil got another text from Ashley.

_**Ashley 12:56 PM** _  
_I’d love to! We can do brunch tomorrow if that’s cool?_

_Sounds like a plan,_ Phil wrote. _10?_

**_Ashley 12:57 PM_ **  
_10 is perfect._

Phil left the lecture hall wondering what he’d just gotten himself into.

***

Phil never knew what to do with himself around people he didn’t know well. Marcus and he had hung out because no one else particularly wanted to, and so by the time they realized other people might want to hang out with them, too, they already worked well together. With PJ, it was more that he was there in the other dorm room while Phil was waiting for Marcus to get ready and made small talk to avoid awkward silences, so that by the time the year had ended Phil and PJ knew each other fairly well.

Dan, being the newest maybe-almost-friend in Phil’s life, got along Phil in an easy manner that Phil highly suspected wouldn’t amount to much. They hadn’t had any deep conversations yet—ignoring the ones Phil had danced around—to really get to know one another and the connection they did have was over things like coursework and movies. He wouldn’t label Dan and friend—they hadn't known each other long enough—but he … well. He liked Dan. He hoped they would be friends, one day.

But around Ashley, who he wasn’t sure he wanted to be friends with in the first place, especially with Marcus’s words that _maybe she has a crush on you_ ringing in his ears, Phil feels uncomfortable and jittery as he makes his way to a little diner off-campus that uni students often frequented—though, usually not this early in the morning, giving the numerous hangovers most carried.

He stood outside the door, waiting for Ashley to appear. As he waited, he pulled out his phone and checked his notifications.

Ellie had reblogged and liked a lot of his posts on Tumblr, he had a few new emails, a couple of channels he followed on YouTube had updated…

“Phil!” Ashley said, and Phil jumped, since she was right behind him.

Heart racing and the jittery feeling intensified, Phil nevertheless forced a smile on his face and tried to make it seem as natural as possible. “Ashley, hey!”

“Ready to head in?”

Phil wasn’t—he was ready to head back to his room, social quota exceeded for the day—but he nodded and opened the door to let her in.

“Right on over there,” a waitress called out, waving to an empty booth.

“Thanks!” Ashley said and Phil, whose voice seemed lodged somewhere down around his lungs, offered her a bright smile as he followed Ashley over to the booth and slid in across from her.

“So, you’re okay?” he asked her, trying to keep his tone low and even.

“I’m fine.” Ashley shrugged. “Broke up with my long-term boyfriend, was feeling kind of crummy, but what are you going to do?”

“Sorry I didn’t reply sooner,” Phil said. “I was asleep.”

“And I figured everyone would be,” Ashley said. “Really, it was fine. Thanks for hanging out with me now.”

“Least I could do,” Phil said. “So, um, what’s been going on? Read any books lately?”

Despite how awkward he felt around her, Phil allowed himself to become engrossed in the conversation, debating with her the various causes and alternate looks on history and politics she had.

Ashley did her research. She researched, then she thought, then she formulated an opinion. Phil was once again reminded of the fact that he wasn’t very special when compared to a natural scholar, like Ashley, being a person who enjoyed a more generalized approach to learning.

Before his entire day could disappear, Phil begged off with vague promises of hanging out again sometime in the future.

Three hours had passed. Phil, walking back to his flat, sighed to himself at the thought of what he could have done with that time.

Which made him feel like a terrible person. Before the spiral of thoughts could come around to berate his self-absorption, Phil forced himself to think about music he’d recently been listening to, videos he’d seen on Tumblr, even some of the memes Dan had sent to him. Anything to keep his thoughts quiet and tucked away from him.

***

**_Ellie 4:15 PM_ **  
_Hey! I’m on the road. I’ll be there later tonight or earlier tomorrow, not sure which._

Phil simply send back a _\o/_ and called that good, setting his phone aside so that he could once more concentrate on his history essay.

It was Thursday afternoon, and Phil was nervous about going to a Poetry slam later on that evening. He wasn’t planning on reading anything, he was still nervous. Since before this year most of the slams had taken place in town—usually in pubs—that Phil simply hadn’t wanted to go.

Now that it was closer to his flat, Phil was actually considering going. Most of the people he was friendly with in his department ran it or would be attending, and Phil did want to hear their works read out loud. Most of them had more talent in their whole body than Phil did in his pinky finger.

**_Ellie 4:21 PM_ **  
_We could always get togethr & hang out soon, if you want._

Phil bit his lips, sent a _sure_ , and turned off his phone, unable to stomach seeing messages come across his screen. 

He glanced at the time again and, seeing he still had three hours, did his best to focus on his essay.


	13. Chapter 13

There was a little place tucked away on campus that the Poetry Club housed the slam in this year, and it was far more crowded than Phil had thought it would be. He slipped in and looked for familiar faces.

It was a cozy place, an on-campus coffee house pandering to the current vogue of bare bulbs, plants, and comfy armchairs. There were tables lining the windows and walls as well as a few larger ones closer to the center. A bar-like counter ran along the back wall with a chalkboard menu suspended above it. Across from the door and adjacent to the counter was a large black stage. It wasn’t large and had no curtains, but it was large enough for a small band to play or for a small production to act.

“Phil!” PJ appeared at his elbow, grinning. His curls were frizzing slightly under the sweaty air of the room. His eyes were wide, his grin relaxed, and Phil felt some of his nerves disappear.

“PJ,” Phil returned.

“Didn’t think you would be here!”

A couple of people pushed by them, laughing loudly at something. They jostled Phil, who moved closer to PJ so that he could be heard.

“Yeah, well, figured I might as well try it,” Phil said. “Before I leave and everything, you know.”

PJ nodded. “Yeah, I know. But it’s good you’re here. Reading anything?”

“No,” Phil said. “I … wasn't sure I was coming until about three minutes ago.”

PJ just smiled and nodded, but Phil didn't know what to say, how to move his limbs in a way that was jerky and too-loose at the same time, so he just gave PJ a tight smile and made his way towards a table near the back that was made for just two people.

Phil put his jacket on the other chair so that it looked taken and took his own seat, pulling out his phone so that people wouldn't approach him. He had to turn it back on, and when he looked at his screen, he saw a few texts from Dan.

**_Dan 5:41 PM_ **   
_wtf? did poirot just insult hastings with a parrot??_

**_Dan 5:45 PM_ **   
_dude, poirot is savage af_

**_Dan 6:37 PM_ **   
_ok, that was different. but good different. gonna rewatch death note :3_

**_Dan 7:13 PM_ **   
_what are you up to?_

Phil blinked at the messages before a little smile spread across his face.

**_Phil 7:28 PM_ **   
_Poetry slam on campus._

“Hello, everyone!” a girl called out through a microphone. Her name was Sarah, and she and Phil shared a few classes together. “Thank you all for showing up! There's a sign-up sheet over near the wonderful Maddie—Maddie, raise your hand.”

A girl on the opposite side of the room from Phil, near the stage, raised her hand, giving the room a little smile and wave.

“Alright,” Sarah said. “I'm gonna start this in about ten minutes, so feel free to sign up! Poetry, songs, flash fiction, jokes, anything you want. We welcome it!”

She jumped off the stage and made her way to a gaggle of English majors Phil knew but not well enough to want to hang out with outside of class and began talking amongst themselves, giggling to one another.

Phil spent the ten minutes on his phone looking up pictures of dogs and playing a few rounds of solitaire. Just as Sarah got back up to start the slam, someone slid into the seat across from Phil.

Phil blinked, looked over, and saw Dan looking back at him.

“Hi,” Phil said.

“Hi,” Dan said. “I've never been to one of these before.”

“Me neither,” Phil admitted. “It was always held off-campus before in bars and such and I didn't want to go.”

“I can’t actually picture you at a bar,” Dan said, then looked embarrassed. “Uh, sorry.”

“It’s alright. I can’t, either, so.”

“Alright, alright!” Sarah said. “Who wants some spoken word up in this house?”

There were a few groans and laughs from the crowd, and Phil settled back as he let words wash over him, dozing under their weight, watching the stage through lidded eyes and soaking up the phosphorus taste of emotion.

“Are you going to read?” Dan asked at one point.

“No,” Phil said. “Don’t really write short things well.”

“Why not?”

Phil shrugged, stretching his long legs out in front of him once he was sure no one would run into them. “I guess I like knowing the whole story instead of just snippets.”

Dan hummed in the back of his throat. “Want anything to drink?”

“Mind getting me some water?” Phil asked, digging out some money from his pocket.

“Phil,” Dan said as he stood. “I got this. It’s just water.”

“Thanks,” Phil said quietly.

With a smile, Dan headed towards the little cafe down the hall as Phil waited.

Dan had started speaking to him during an intermission, when more people would, hopefully, sign up to read their works out loud. Phil didn’t see many people going over to the sign-up sheet and wondered if the slam would be over soon. Looking at his phone and seeing that it was almost eight-fifteen, Phil was glad it would be wrapping up soon. His energy reserves were depleting rapidly, and Phil wanted nothing more than to crawl back to his room and hide.

“Here we go,” Dan said, passing a bottle of water over to Phil with a little soft smile smeared across his lips.

“Thanks.” Phil wrapped his hands around the bottle, feeling the chill soak into his joints.

Dan was watching him. “Want to head out?”

“Do you?”

“Yeah.” Dan shrugged. “I’m getting tired of people.”

“Same,” Phil replied, relieved.

He stood, and both he and Dan began to head for the door.

“Bye, Phil!” he heard some people call out, and waved over his shoulder as he and Dan slipped into the night.

“What do you want to do?” Dan asked. “Or, actually, do you _want_ to do anything?”

“We could just walk?” Phil said. “I don’t really want to be inside right now.”

Dan bumped his shoulder into Phil’s and they set off across campus.

As they walked, they spoke about nothing and everything, whiling away the time as the moon rose and the brightest stars filtered through the pollution.

Finally, when Phil’s eyes couldn’t stay open and Dan began stumbling over his words, they bid each other goodnight and left for each of their for their rooms.

As Phil climbed onto his bed, he checked his phone one last time and saw two new text messages waiting for him.

**_Ellie 11:18 PM_ **   
_Here!_

**_Dan 11:23 PM_ **   
_but why would dogs prefer bacon donuts over steak donuts_

Phil snickered to himself at Dan’s text and, after sending Ellie a little “ _yay!_ ” back, replied to Dan.

**_Phil 11:34 PM_ **   
_Because they’re achin’ for some bacon_

**_Dan 11:35 PM_ **   
_that was honestly the worst thing ever leave_

**_Phil 11:35 PM_ **   
_x)  
Okay, going to bed now, night ^_^_

**_Dan 11:36 PM_ **   
_why do i bother with you?_

Phil smiled down at it, but didn’t feel the need to reply. Instead, he set his phone down on his desk and got ready for bed.

***

“Hey, Phil, could we borrow your car to go get supplies for the bake sale?”

Phil looked up to see Curtis standing in his door. Phil, slumped on his bed with his laptop open and his headphones on, straightened up as best he could.

“Um,” he said. “Sure?”

He set his laptop aside and crawled off the bed, hopping over to his desk and shuffling aside a few papers until he was able to find his keys.

“Here,” he said, tossing them to Curtis, who almost fumbled the catch, looking surprised.

“Thanks,” Curtis said. “May’s a good driver, I swear.”

Phil shrugged. “Just be careful.”

“Okay.”

Phil wondered, as he retook his seat, when he crossed the line between being nice and being convenient.

With a sigh, he supposed it didn’t really matter, in the end.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the tardiness of this chapter! I was on a camping trip and got back late yesterday and was too exhausted to post. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

One month bled into the next, and Phil kept texting Dan and cursing his traitorous mind whenever Marcus smiled at him and kept hanging out with Ellery and generally tried to stay positive.

This determination to remain his sunshine self abruptly punctured one day with a phone call from his dad.

“Phil.” His dad’s voice sounded tight, tense. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, dad, what’s up?” Phil tried to bite back the worry in his tone, but his mind was, once again, racing out of control as he tried to figure out why his dad was upset.

“It’s Ellie,” his dad said.

When Dan found him half an hour later, Phil was power walking his way around campus.

Shoulders in, head down, glower on, Phil felt rather like a storm cloud speeding it's way through the sky.

“Phil!” he heard Dan call.

Phil didn't stop, though somewhere in the back of his mind he wanted to. His feet kept going forward and he couldn't find it in him to stop. 

He heard the crunch of Dan's feet as Dan hurried to catch up to him. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Dan mumbled as he fought his way to Phil's side amidst grumbles and curses from fellow students steadfast trying to ignore the world around them.

“Phil,” Dan said once he was at Phil's side, his long legs keeping up with Phil's. “What's happened? Are you okay?”

_I'm so weak, I know, but I feel like I'm coming apart,_ Phil thought.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey.” Dan touched Phil's arm and Phil stumbled to a halt, chest heaving.

“Hey, how about we go to the cafe and get some food, okay,” Dan said. “And some hot chocolate.”

Phil nodded jerkily and allowed Dan to tug at his arm, leading him back the way he came and towards the cafe off-campus.

They were silent as they walked, and Dan's steady presence at his side was soothing. Phil found his breaths evening out, his numb, loud mind calming.

He didn't really pay attention to where they were going, trusting Dan to guide him safely.

When they finally slid into a booth, Dan dumped his backpack on the opposite seat and vanished to go place their orders.

Phil kept breathing, trying to wrestle his mind into some semblance of serenity and _why couldn't he be better?_

Dan entered his field of vision again with two small cups.

“Hot chocolate,” he said. “Didn't think coffee would be good here, and I didn't know if you like tea.”

“This is fine,” Phil said.

“So,” Dan said as he settled down, cradling his cup between his palms. “What happened?”

Phil cleared his throat. Then cleared it again.

“So, you know Ellie, right?”

“I know _of_ her, but I don't _know_ her.”

“Right.” Phil let out a breath. “Right. So. Ellie wasn't able to come back here this year because her mom got sick. But now her mom’s better and she didn't really want to stay with her mom any longer and she wanted to be closer to her friends up here. So, I … I mean, she was nice. I don't think I'd have called her my friend because my definition of friend isn't … But I liked her well enough. I-I might have suggested she live in my parent's home.

“Not the one they live in,” he clarified. “We came into a little bit of money a few years ago and they bought their retirement home before the economy crashes or something. I asked my parents and after a bit, we worked something out with Ellie. She’d stay there and get a job and look after the house. In return, she could bring her dogs and stay there rent-free for a few months.”

Dan whistled. “That's a great deal.”

Phil shrugged. “Yeah. But. My parents … My parents went up to the house and found that she'd trashed it. She had let her dogs poop and pee on the carpets and she'd just … sit there, on her computer, not doing a single thing about it. The house is trashed.”

Dan looked stunned and angry on Phil's behalf. Before Dan could say anything, Phil continued, his words tripping over themselves to leave his mouth.

“And I vouched for her and she just threw that away and now I'm costing my parents and I don't want to do that and she's made me a liar to them and I can't—” Phil choked, cutting himself off.

“Phil…” Dan murmured. 

“Why did she do this?” Phil gasped. “I was just … I was just trying to be nice and I don't understand…”

“Phil, Phil, Phil,” he heard Dan breathe, and he felt Dan slide in next to him and hesitantly put his arm around Phil's shoulders.

Phil turned his head and tried to keep his tears in.

“Sorry, sorry,” Phil mumbled, trying to pull away. “This is just a shock.”

Dan let him go. “Phil, it's okay. This is … What the actual fuck.”

They sat, silent, next to one another.

“I feel so stupid,” Phil said.

“You aren't.”

“I trusted someone I shouldn't have.”

He felt Dan shrug. “That happens, Phil. Have you guys kicked her out?”

“We've given her a week to clean up,” Phil said. “We haven't told her that, though. My parents gave her a warning and we'll all head over there next weekend to kick her out if she hasn't done anything.”

“Good.” Dan didn’t seem to know what else to say, and together they just leaned together in silence.

***

The week passed both slowly and quickly, bleeding the days together until Phil felt timeless so that whenever he caught a glimpse of the looming weekend, a bubble of fear welled up inside of him.

That was why, when Phil left his room and heard sobbing, his only thought was _what now?_

What now, Phil discovered was, stomach sinking, heart racing, he crept into the communal room, was Marcus, Curtis, and Ellery huddled together. Instead of Marcus huddled on the couch, drunk and crying, this time Ellery was shaking on the table as Curtis rubbed his back silently.

“I’ll be fine,” Ellery was insisting. “Really. This this just shock. I’ll be fine.”

“Is everything okay?” Phil asked.

Curtis sighed and Marcus just looked over at Phil, unwilling to say anything.

“Just some news from my dad,” Ellery said. “J-Just that he wasn’t happy with me and he’s b-basically disowning me.”

“Oh, Ellery,” Phil said.

Ellery shook his head vehemently. “It’s not—like I said, I’m pretty damn independent. This is just shock. I’ll be fine.”

“Still,” Phil said. “That’s … This is awful. Can I … Can I ask what happened?”

“My dad flew up here without telling me,” Ellery said. “Watched me go out with a couple of mates of mine this last weekend. H-He approached me today and told me he was disappointed with how I was handling my life. When I said I was doing fine, he didn’t believe me.”

“He didn’t?” Phil asked, feeling incredulity and pain for his new friend well up inside of him. “Does he—Ellery, doesn’t he know you’re working two jobs and taking six classes?”

“Doesn’t matter to him.” Ellery ran the back of his hand across his eyes. “H-He just told me he was going to stop paying for stuff and I get the feeling I’m n-not particularly welcome in his life anymore.”

“Oh, Ellery…” Phil tried to make sure he didn’t sound patronizingly sympathetic, but it was hard when his mind was busy trying to reason out how a parent could ever do such a thing. His parents were so wonderful, trusting that he and his brother would do what was right for them, that the idea that his mum or dad would come out to stalk and berate him was unimaginable…

“He’s a fucking dick,” Marcus mumbled, bringing Phil out of his own head and back to the present, where it seemed that talking about it allowed Ellery to regain control. Phil watched as Ellery straightened, took a deep breath, and relaxed.

“I’ll be fine,” Ellery repeated. “After classes today I’ll go get my phone on my own plan. I need to talk to my manager…”

As Ellery figured out what he had to do now that he no longer had his parent’s support, Phil felt like shrinking inwards, because he wasn’t nearly this well put together. What had Phil done that could be considered being an “adult?”

He felt like such a failure at almost everything, and this was no different. He leached off his parents and even though they assured him that it was fine, that he’d get his feet under him soon enough and then he’d be off on his own.

God, Phil was so terrified of the future.

_Deep breath,_ Phil told himself. _You have time to figure it out._

_Do you?_ a voice retorted. _Or is your family’s love allowing you to limp through life?_

Phil ignored the voice and listened to Ellery instead.

***

_**Phil 2:03 AM**  
I don’t know what i’m doing anymore with myself and my life and it scares me._

_**Dan 2:04 PM**  
phil? are you alright????_

__**Dan 2:05 PM**  
phil?  
phil?  
phil?  
… guess you've gone to sleep talk tomorrow ok? 

***

“Phil?”

Phil didn’t look up, still hunched over his journal tucked away in a nook in the library.

Dan hesitantly took the seat across from him, and when Phil looked up, he could tell Dan knew something was wrong.

“Phil? What’s up?”

“I just…” Phil let out a shaky breath. “Am I a good person?”

“Yes.” Dan answered without hesitation, sliding into the seat across from Phil. “You’re amazing.”

Phil looked down at his scrawled notes. “Then why do people keep stabbing me in the back?”

“Calm down, Phil,” Dan murmured. “You still have a few days before you have to drive out.”

“I just.” Phil felt like he was choking. “I know this isn’t all that important compared to other people’s problems and I—”

“Phil,” Dan interrupted. “She took advantage of your hospitality. This isn’t … Don’t compare yourself to others.”

“You sound like Ellery.”

“Ellery’s a smart guy.”

“He is,” Phil admitted. “Smarter than me.”

“Phil…”

“Right.” Phil drew in a shaky breath.

Dan watched him closely.

“And you’re okay with evicting her?”

“Dan,” Phil said. “I put my trust in her and she made me a liar to my parents. I _love_ my parents. I know I’m not … I’m not the best kid, but I try for them, you know? And I just wanted to do something nice for someone.”

The familiar desire to cry was prickling at the undersides of Phil’s eyeballs, but Phil kept them in. He didn’t need to cry. He could be strong. This wasn’t earth-shattering.

“What she did was shit,” Dan said bluntly. “This isn't on you or your parents.”

“My parents don't want me blaming myself,” Phil admitted. “But I am. I'm the one who suggested the plan, I'm the one who pushed for it. I'm the one who made this happen.”

“And she's the one who messed up,” said Dan. “You can’t control her actions.”

Phil sighed. “Yeah.”

There was a beat of silence.

Phil listened to the noises of the library. The rustling papers, the voices spoken in undertones. Some were laced with amusement, some intensity, some in that tone only students have, confusion-mixed-with-dawning-understanding.

“I don't mean to keep bringing all this up,” Phil finally said. “I'm just working it out, I guess. I do that, bring up the same thing over and over again. I'm not good at saying something once and burying it.”

“You don't have to explain. I don't mind.”

Phil doubted that very much. He was such a burden on people. He needed to withdraw, to compose himself so that any hint of his more irritating parts were covered up and hidden from the world, so that people didn't have to worry about him, because compared to others, he had a great life. He shouldn't complain about anything, not when others had it worse.

“Uh, right,” he said a beat too late. He ducked his head in embarrassment. 

“Phil,” Dan said. “Phil, it's okay, really.”

Dan scooted out of his chair and wrapped himself around Phil, who bowed his head into Dan's shoulder.

Even though he was glad Dan was here, he couldn't help but wish Marcus was the one comforting him.

_Would he even do that anymore?_ he wondered before feeling bad.

They were just going through a rough patch in their friendship. Phil shouldn't be so quick to look for rejection, especially not in one of his oldest remaining friends.

He closed his eyes and tried to ignore his own tiresome existence.

***

“Hey, Phil, I have a question.” Phil looked over at Marcus, who stood in his doorway, to see him shifting on his feet.

“What’s up?” Phil asked.

Marcus opened his mouth. “Uh, could Erika and I borrow your car?”

“To go where?”

Marcus shrugged awkwardly. “Well, uh, to go to a concert?”

Phil tensed, but tried to keep his tone level. “Where is it?”

“It’s not until the tenth next month,” Marcus said. “I’ll be driving and Erika will be with me, though she’ll probably be intoxicated on the way down and up, and it’ll just be a four hour drive, just for a weekend…”

Phil felt more and more tense as Marcus continued, and his first, immediate thought was, _no._

His second thought was, _no way, not going to happen._

His third thought, though, was, _am I being unreasonable?_

“That’s a long way,” Phil said after a long pause. “And … And you’re still not the best driver…”

“I know,” Marcus said. “But I’ll be careful.”

“Let me think about it. Please.”

He could see that Marcus was taken aback, since Phil never said no and hardly ever said maybe, but Phil resolutely ignored his best friend’s expression and turned back to his books.

“Okay,” Marcus said, backing away towards the door. “Let me know, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Phil muttered as the door closed.

***

_**Phil 1:30 AM**  
I don’t know how I feel._

_**Dan 1:30 AM**  
how do you mena?_

_**Phil 1:31 AM**  
Why are you still awake??_

__**Dan 1:31 AM**  
it’s still early for me why do you think all my classes are in the afternoon  
why are you still awake? 

_**Phil 1:32 AM**  
I’m trying but my mind is too loud_

_**Dan 1:33 AM**  
tell it to shut up_

_**Phil 1:33 AM**  
How?_

__**Dan 1:34 AM**  
well, what’s it being loud about?  
phil? ,/b>  
phil?   
Phiiiiiiil 

_**Phil 1:35 AM**  
Sorry I don’t know how to express it without sounding self-entitled and self-centric_

_**Dan 1:36 AM**  
it's one in the morning i’m not judging you_

_**Phil 1:36 AM**  
Maybe you should. People go easy on me, sometimes, I think. They treat me like me feelings are delicate_

_**Dan 1:37 AM**  
wtf why_

_**Phil 1:37 AM**  
I guess I just come across as young? Childlike? _

__**Dan 1:38 AM**  
...sounds stupid on their end but ok  
no but hit me what’s up 

_**Phil 1:39 AM**  
Am I allowed to feel upset about my life?_

_**Dan 1:40 AM**  
??? ofc??_

_**Phil 1:40 AM**  
But I have a good life. I have friends, loving family, education, etc. so why am i letting ellie and marcus get to me and i just feel so dissatisfied with my life and i don’t know why_

_**Dan 1:41 AM**  
phil, marcus is ignoring you ellie mistreated you and your family,_

_**Phil 1:42 AM**  
There’s a comma at the end there, so I assume you were going to add something else_

__**Dan 1:42 AM**  
(english degree nerd) you have self esteem issues  
sorry  
that was blunt af  
i just mean, I can see that & i didn't mean to make you feel attacked 

_**Phil 1:44 AM**  
It's fine, Dan. Let me type_

_Phil 1:46 AM_  
maybe? It’s jsut around people, though. Like, when I’m alone, I’m fine. I love my hobbies and my own company but when i’m around people i just feel so … idk, talkative? Uncomfortable? Like i can’t be myself around other people?  
*just 

__**Dan 1:46 AM**  
lol i figured it was just  
and phil that’s fine. i’m sorry you feel that way, but that doesn’t mean you can’t feel unhappy 

_**Phil 1:47 AM**  
But i shouldn’t feel unhappy. Dan, my life is pretty great overall. I have no reason to feel this way._

_**Dan 1:48 AM**  
there’s a lot of issues with what you just said, but let’s start from the top, k?_

_**Phil 1:48 AM**  
K_

_**Dan 1:49 AM**  
you think because your life is better than others you shouldn’t ever be unhappy. phil, you can be unhappy if people are treating you like shit_

_**Phil 1:49 AM**  
But isn’t this just first world problems?_

_**Dan 1:50 AM**  
i mean yea you aren’t starving to death or having to avoid bombs & men with guns so yea this is a first world prob but also a human one bc you’re a nice person who keeps getting walked over bc people take advantage of you_

__**Phil 1:51 AM**  
But then what I’m going through isn’t important. I’ll just keep quiet about it.  
Crap, i shouldn’t have sent that. 

_**Dan 1:51 AM**  
phil that’s not what i mean holy shit_

_**Dan 1:53 AM**  
ok look i get it life is pretty great for you and all that but that doesn’t mean you have to be happy all the time. you’re allowed to be upset when upsetting things happen to you. if you keep it all bottle up it’ll come popping up & be very dramatic and mean you’ll be even more unhappy and it’s a vicious cycle ok it’s ok to feel down and feel bad and that doesn’t mean you’re selfish it means you’re human and you are allowed to stop people-pleasing all the time_

__**Dan 1:55 AM**  
phil?   
phil   
phiiiiiiil 

_**Phil 1:56 AM**  
I’m going to bed now_

_**Dan 1:57 AM**  
i’m sorry if that was to harsh_

_**Phil 1:58 AM**  
Night_

_**Dan 1:58 AM**  
goodnight phil_


	15. Chapter 15

When Phil slipped into the chair opposite of Dan the next day, he saw relief painted across Dan’s face.

“I thought I’d pissed you off,” Dan said.

“No, I just really wanted to try and get some sleep,” Phil admitted. “Sorry.”

Dan waved him off and sat down next to Phil. “You leave tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Phil said.

“You ready to see Ellie?”

“Not even close.”

There was a bout of quiet between the two of them.

“Do you want company?”

Phil looked over at Dan, whose face was open, etched with care and concern.

“No,” Phil said. “But thank you for offering.”

“Of course,” Dan said before changing the subject. “What are you working on?”

As Phil, haltingly, told Dan about his more recent essay, he relaxed under Dan's interest.

Eventually, Dan and Phil worked on their own homework together until Phil had to leave for his work.

Dan watched Phil pack up his journal and a few notecards he had been halfheartedly making for an upcoming exam in one of his classes.

“Hey, Phil,” Dan whispered, catching Phil’s wrist before Phil could leave the table.

“Yeah?” Phil asked.

Dan gnawed at his lip. “I know … I know you don’t make friends very easily. You’ve got your, uh, ‘friendly acquaintances’ and stuff, but are we … are we friends?”

Phil blinked once, twice. “What? Of course, Dan. You’ve … You’ve become a really good friend of mine.”

Dan ducked his head, blushing. “Good. You’re my … I mean, you’re a really good friend of mine, too.”

Phil rotated his wrist, which Dan seemed to have forgotten to let go of, and held Dan’s wrist loosely. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a mess, Dan, but I’m here for you, and you’re my friend.”

And unlike all the times before where Phil told a person they were his friend to avoid hurting their feelings, Phil actually meant it with Dan.

“Good,” Dan said. “I’m … I’m really happy to hear that.”

“I’m sorry if you thought we weren’t,” Phil said. “I’m not really good at the friends thing. Or the people thing in general.”

“I’m not either,” Dan offered, smiling.

“We’ll fail together,” Phil said.

“Reasons why Dan and Phil are a fail,” said Dan.

Phil snickered. “That’s us. It can be our sitcom title.”

Dan laughed. “Dork.”

“Pot, meet kettle!” Phil protested.

“Alright.” Dan let go of Phil. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Definitely,” Phil agreed.

As he left the library, he couldn’t keep the grin off his face, a warmth spreading throughout his chest.

He had made a new friend.

***

Saturday finally arrived in a splatter of dreariness that made Phil want to curl up on his bed with a book and a coffee, not drive over an hour to get to a house riddled with betrayal and filth.

Phil, however, shoved all of his thoughts aside and packed for a day trip, lugging it all out to his car and climbing inside.

As he set up his playlist for the drive over, Phil could only feel dread for the upcoming confrontation.

He didn’t know how Ellie was going to react to the united front that was the Lesters kicking her out. While Phil suspected she’d leave without a fight, there was always the chance she’d try to convince Phil to help her.

If she did that, Phil thought grimly as he started his car and pulled out of the parking lot, she’d be in for a surprise.

Phil wasn’t sure how he was going to react to Ellie. Would he stay calm? Would he scream at her? Would he chew her out?

While Phil really, really wanted to let Ellie know about his hurt and his anger, he also didn’t want to bully her. He didn’t want to make the situation worse.

Ellie wasn’t a bad person. She was just … lazy, was a good word. She was a talented writer, a good conversant, and—or, at least, so he’d thought—very nice.

So why had she done this? Why had she taken his family’s hospitality and blindsided them with this?

Phil didn’t know the answer. He didn’t think he’d ever know the answer. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

The drive passed in a blur of off-key singing, bouts of silence entangled with bittered thoughts, and zoned out periods where the worlds blossoming within his mind crept to the forefront and nestled there sweetly, a reprieve.

By the time Phil pulled into the town where the house was located, his butt was sore, his back was complaining, and his eyes felt greasy and heavy.

The cold air woke him up, slightly, and Phil let out a slow breath as he shut and locked his car, making his way to the little cafe.

Instead, the smell of coffee and pastries greeted him, and as Phil breathed in the scent, he looked around for his parents.

He finally spotted his mum in a corner and made his way over to her.

“Mum!” Phil said once he was close enough, smiling widely at her.

She looked up from where she was seated facing the window, her warm eyes crinkled with a smile.

“Child!” she returned. She stood and gave him a wide hug. Phil hugged tightly back, wrapped up in her warmth and her familiar smell, and the childlike feeling of safety.

They broke apart too soon, in Phil’s opinion, and she gestured for him to come sit next to her. “Your dad’s in the bathroom. How was the drive?”

“Not bad,” Phil said. “Long, though, you know how it is.”

“I do,” she agreed. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah,” Phil said softly, “it is.”

His dad exited the bathroom just then, and when he caught sight of Phil, his face lit up. “Phil!”

“Hey, dad!” Phil said, standing and giving his dad a hug.

“It’s good to see you.” His dad let go and took a seat across from his wife so that Phil was in between the two of them. “Have you ordered anything?”

“No,” Phil admitted. “Give me one moment.”

He headed over to the counter and looked up at the board.

After ordering a coffee and a pumpkin bread—Halloween was, after all, fast approaching—he headed back to his parents.

“Sorry about everything,” Phil said as soon as he settled down. “I didn’t … I really didn’t think she would do this.”

“Phil, it’s not your fault,” his mum said. “We were just as fooled.”

His dad gave his a sad smile. Phil’s dad had had many hesitations at letting Ellie stay in the house, and it wasn’t until he and Ellie had spoken over the phone and hammered out an agreement that he’d finally relented.

“But I’m the one who suggested this happen,” Phil said.

“Phil,” his dad said. “It’s alright. We’ll get through this. This isn’t the end of the world.”

Phil’s order was called out then, and Phil stood to grab his drink and food.

“So,” his mum said once he returned. “Before we go deal with this unpleasantness, what’s been going on in your life?”

Phil gave her a smile and recounted the more light-hearted events of his semester, bringing up things like Dan and PJ, the word slam and his classes.

It was good to be around his parents again. He’d missed them.

They chatted for almost an hour before finally heading off to the cars to drive to the house.

The house itself was tucked away at the end of a dirt road. It was a simple house. One level, four bedrooms. It had wide bay windows that looked into a brick sunroom which, in the summer, would get warm enough that naps were almost a mandatory thing when seated upon the couch. The kitchen was wide enough that his mum didn’t feel cramped when cooking, and the dining room was spacious enough for their many board game nights.

Ellie was seated at the table when they entered the house, and she stood as the three Lesters piled into the house. Her two dogs barked, lumbering over to them and sniffing at their legs. Phil didn’t pet them, much as some part of him wanted automatically to.

Instead, Phil took a sniff, and though the house was big enough that smells didn’t tend to collect in one area, the stench of feces and trash was strong.

He felt like choking. Like crying. Like screaming.

He did nothing.

“Well, hello,” Ellie said, covering her surprise well. “It’s good to see you guys.”

A flare of anger slashed through Phil’s chest. Did she not know why they were here? Did she feel no remorse for this? _This wasn’t her house and she’d trashed it._

“Hey, Ellie,” his dad said into the silence. “We’re here to ask you to leave.”

Ellie’s face fell only slightly, and she nodded. “Alrighty then. I’ll start packing.”

While Phil was relieved that she wasn’t trying to argue, part of him felt disappointed he didn’t have a reason to shout at her. He felt like such a bad person, thinking that, but he was just so…

_Hurt._

As Ellie moved off to start packing her stuff, the Lesters set about cleaning. They picked up the poop, the toys, and the stems of grasses that had found their way inside.

Then, as Phil’s dad vacuumed, Phil mopped up behind him, targeting the patches of pee that pooled here and there. His mum wandered around collecting soiled pillows and blankets to throw them in the wash.

“Go grab the keys to the house from Ellie, please, dear,” she asked Phil at one point.

Phil just nodded and made his way towards the front door, where Ellie was loading her car.

“Keys?” he asked.

She dug into her pocket and handed them over with a word.

A “Thank you,” slipped out of Phil’s mouth, and he cursed himself and his ingrained manners. Without saying another word, Phil turned on his heel and disappeared back into the house, keys clasped tightly in his hand.

Ellie finally left an hour into the cleaning, and Phil could honestly say he wasn’t sad to see her gone. She’d acted woebegone the entire time she’d packed, as if almost hoping they’d give her another chance if she acted sad enough.

“She told me she was sorry she’d wasted this opportunity,” his dad told Phil and Phil’s mum a when Ellie was outside. “I didn’t lecture her.”

“Maybe you should have,” Phil said, unable to tamp down on the well of bitterness that rose up in that moment.

“Perhaps,” his dad said. “You’ve made some very good friends over the years, Phil. I’m surprised at this one.”

“She wasn’t quite a friend,” Phil said. “A maybe-almost-friend.”

His dad didn’t seem to understand the distinction, but he nodded at Phil and moved off to continue vacuuming, leaving Phil to breathe in the stinking hallway for a moment.

They cleaned until the sun began dipping towards the horizon.

It was then they cleaned themselves off and said their goodbyes, as both his parents needed to return home and Phil needed to return to uni, Phil hugged both his parents tight. He didn’t know when he would see them next.

“Oh, Phil,” his mum said warmly.

“Love you,” he murmured into her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry you’re unhappy this term,” she said.

Phil tensed. “I’m okay.”

She snorted. “Talk to Marcus,” she told him before she pulled away. “You need to tell him what’s going on.”

“I don’t want to upset him,” Phil said. “And if I try to tell him just, anything, I think he’ll get upset.”

His mum regarded him sadly. “Just try, dear.”

“Yeah,” Phil said. “I’ll try and talk to him.”

He watched his parents climb into their car and tried to ignore the ache as two of the few people he truly loved drove away, leaving him once more ensnared by his own loneliness.

***

“Phil!” was the first thing Phil heard when he entered the flat.

It wasn’t Marcus—it was Ellery. Phil wondered if Marcus had even noticed he’d been gone. He didn’t think so.

“Hey,” Phil said.

“How’d it go?” Ellery looked kind and sympathetic, and Phil shrugged and put up his best smile.

“It went,” he said. “She’s out of the house and we’ve still got a lot of cleanup to do.”

“Do you want company?” Ellery asked.

He was on his way out. Phil knew it was Saturday, and ever since Ellery’s dad visited and dropped Ellery from his life, Ellery had been partying on the weekends to relax.

“No,” Phil said. “I’m fine. Tired and hungry. You go have fun. I won’t be much company.”

“Alright,” Ellery said. As he slipped past Phil, he squeezed Phil’s arm gently.

Phil smiled as warmly as he could, but remained silent as Ellery left the flat. No one else was in. Phil breathed in the silence.

He went to his room first, dark in the gloomy autumn dusk, and flopped onto his bed. He lay there for a long few moment, eyes closed, trying to quiet his mind.

A shower needed to happen. Phil felt gross in his clothes, and he should have thought about that before he sat down on the bed, but it was too late now. Phil also needed to get some sleep, but he wanted to decompress for a little bit, too.

He also needed to find the motivation to get off the bed in the first place.

Phil was exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally. All he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep for seven years.

Instead, he rolled over onto his back, pulled out his phone, and texted Dan.

**_Phil 6:45 PM_ **  
_I think I'm actually dead :(_

After there was no immediate response, Phil forced himself to his feet and headed off to the shower.

***

Phil expected rejection. He knew he shouldn't, since the ones closest to him were more than willing to tell him they loved and valued him, but he couldn't stop the overwhelming doubts which infected his mind and told him people only pretended to like him.

He did his best to avoid these doubts, but when things like this happened, he just couldn't help it.

It was Tuesday. It was Tuesday, he was in one of his literature classes, and he was ignoring the lecture in favor of looking at his phone.

_[Saturday]_

_**Phil 6:45 PM**  
I think I'm actually dead :(_

_[Sunday]_

_**Phil 8:46 AM**  
Dan? How was your weekend?_

_**Phil 12:36 PM**  
Ugh, I hate this homework_

_**Phil 3:19 PM**  
Dan? Please let me know if you’re okay_

_**Phil 7:41 PM**  
You’re right, Sword Art Online is pretty good_

_[Monday]_

_**Phil 12:58 PM**  
You weren’t in class. Want my notes?_

__**Phil 9:23 PM**  
Lol, just saw the cutest cat picture ever  
{attachment} 

_[Today]_

_**Phil 2:09 AM**  
Sorry if I’m bothering you_

Worry rose up in Phil’s chest alongside the all-encompassing thought that Dan had finally figured out Phil wasn’t worth knowing—he was too clingy, too prone to overthinking, too much to handle—and had so decided to stop talking to Phil.

Phil honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Dan _had_ decided that. Phil always felt too self-absorbed, and wondered in Dan had caught onto that, too.

Of course, Dan also might have something going on in his life. Perhaps a family member of his was hospitalized, or Dan’s phone died and he’d lost his charger. The list was endless, but Phil couldn’t help but think there was something he’d missed in Dan in the last few days.

Racking his brain, Phil couldn’t come up with anything too off-putting, but, then again, Phil had always been absolutely lousy at judging people.

It couldn’t help to check up on Dan. If he was going to reject Phil, Phil would rather have it done to his face rather than stew in abrupt silence, always wondering what went wrong.

With this determination, Phil waited until the lecture was over and made his way out of the building and towards the first year’s halls.

There was a light drizzle out, and Phil’s hair—carefully straightened that morning—curled only slightly at the ends.

When he came upon the dorms, he was forced to wait outside as the rain slipped down his collar and stained his jacket dark. He bit his lip as he waited for someone to enter or leave the halls who would hopefully be kind enough to let him in.

Phil wanted to run away, but his lack of understanding of how friendships functioned wasn't going to stop him this time.

Dan had slipped into his life, had wormed his way into the corners of his life and settled there. Phil enjoyed talking to Dan, he enjoyed Dan's company.

They could talk, they could enjoy one another’s conversations and silence, and they could make each other smile. For Phil, that alone was worth so much, as he was always unsure of what to do in other people’s company.

Dan was easy. Dan was _fun._

His thoughts were broken as the door he waited near opened.

The girl leaving gave him an odd look, but said nothing as Phil slipped past her and into the halls beyond.

The building was bare. Harsh fluorescent lights beat down on his head and the air smelled like burnt popcorn and clogged toilets.

Phil reached the first hallway of dorms, glancing at the doors, where little paper name tags shaped like trees each displayed the names of the people who lived in the room.

There was no “Dan” or “Daniel" on the first floor, so Phil headed up to the second floor, where the doors now had Pac-Man name tags taped up.

Still no Dan.

It wasn't until Phil reached the fourth floor that he found even a hint of Dan. It wasn’t the name tag that gave it away—the door that made Phil pause had the name removed—it the fact that Radio Head played softly within.

Phil paused outside the door, unsure. Dan hadn’t made any attempt to contact him—was Phil even wanted?

Before he could talk himself out of anything, Phil raised his hand and knocked on Dan’s door.

There was a moment wherein a few scuffles on the other side of the door signaled movement. Then, Radio Head abruptly cut off and muffled footsteps approached the door.

It cracked open, and one brown eye peered though the crack.

“Uh, hi,” Phil said, shifting on his feet. “Um, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Uh. I tried texting.”

“I know,” Dan mumbled. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Phil said, swaying towards the stairway door. “I’ll, um, I’ll just go…”

“You can come in if you want.”

The slice of Dan’s profile vanished, the door left cracked, and Phil entered slowly.

Inside, the room was a mess. Clothes lay strewn over the floor except for one patch near the bed. The desk was covered in papers and notebooks and journals. There was a small TV and gaming console shoved up on top of the wardrobe and a series of _Guitar Hero_ guitars and a drum set were in a pile at the end of the bed.

Dan flopped onto the messy bed, shoving an empty Maltesers bag onto the floor. Phil ignored that, though he planned to ask Dan at some point—should Dan still want to be his friend—how he could have food on his bed like that.

“Sorry,” Dan said, his voice sounding oddly flat. “For the mess. Fuck.” He kicked at a book, weak. “Hopson’s gonna fucking kill me.” He didn’t sound like he much cared. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Phil said. “Um. Are you okay?”

Dan’s bent head meant that Phil couldn’t see his expression, but the sudden tensing of his shoulders told Phil that Dan was feeling vulnerable and uncomfortable.

“Dan,” Phil said, unsure whether he should be asking Dan anything. If Dan needed silent support, or perhaps a distraction. He continued before he could second guess himself. “Are you okay?”

Dan’s expression shuttered closed, and while he opened his mouth, closed it again, and opened it once more, he said nothing.

“Um, you don’t have to tell me,” Phil said in a rush. “I just. Um, I’m here for you.”

Phil hated how rushed his words sounded, how it seemed like he was trying to apologize for caring about Dan.

Dan, though, just shrugged. His expression and baring didn’t change. “You’re fine, Phil.”

“No, no. I. Uh. I’m just worried, Dan. You weren’t at your classes and you weren’t responding to me and you don’t have to talk to me, of course, but I was just worried and…”

“Phil,” Dan said, and his voice cracked slightly. “I…”

Phil waited for Dan to gather himself.

“Can I have a hug?” Dan’s voice was very, very small.

Phil felt his face soften. “Of course.”

He opened his eyes, and Dan practically fell into them.

Dan smelled like he hadn’t showered for a few days. His curly hair was lank and shiny with oils and sweat. His arms trembled around Phil’s waist, and though he was a little bit taller than Phil, Dan still ducked his head onto Phil’s shoulder so that Phil could press his cheek to the side of Dan’s head.

Phil ignored the smell, ignored the greasy texture of Dan’s hair. He pressed himself close to Dan and let them stand.

Phil liked hugs. He liked holding people he cared about. However, no one wanted to hug him for as long as he wanted. Phil wanted to stand with someone in a hug until he couldn’t keep his arms around them anymore. He wanted to be able to cradle them against his chest until he felt satisfied.

But no one wanted to indulge him in long hugs. They always pulled away after a few moments. Even his parents felt uncomfortable with more and a few seconds of hugging. He had never been able to hold someone for as long as he liked without them trying to move away before he was ready.

Dan, though, Dan stayed in his arms. He made no move to pull away, and after a few seconds where they waited for the other to try and end the hug, they both relaxed into it.

Even though Dan smelled, it was the best hug Phil had had in a very long while.

He didn’t know how long they held onto one another, but by the time they pulled away, Phil felt better, more at peace.

“Sorry,” Dan said thickly. “It’s just been … I’ve had a rough weekend. And I know you did, too, and I’m so sorry, I was going to be there for you…”

Phil had almost forgotten about cleaning Ellie’s mess in the face of Dan’s radio silence.

“It’s fine,” he said. “Really. I’m just … I’m just worried about you. I can handle things like that on my own.”

“You shouldn’t have too.” Dan looked down at the floor. “I was going to be around for you to talk to…”

“Hey,” Phil said. “How about we go take a walk? Get outside for a little bit?”

Dan blinked at the floor, shoulders curling inwards. Phil waited, trying to focus on Dan and not the anxiety pounding away at his ribcage.

“Yeah,” Dan said finally. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

There was a break where Dan went to shower and change while Phil awkwardly stood by his desk and tried to ignore the shuffling of Dan behind him, but then Dan made a soft noise and Phil turned around, and they were off.

Dan hadn’t bothered to straighten his hair, so the curly mess atop his head caught in the slight wind and blew around his face.

Phil thought he looked beautiful.

The thought surprised him, and he winced at its connotations, but unable to deny its truth.

He guided Dan to the little patch of wood and onto the trail, the sounds of the city behind them muting, distant in a way humanity can only be when hidden behind the folds of nature.

The heavy taste of growing winter pressed itself across his tongue, sliding up his nostrils until his sinuses hurt from the chill. His skin felt flaky, and he was never more aware of the layers of protective sediments encasing his body then he was when autumn fell into winter with barely a whisper.

Around him, trees clustered about with only a few dead leaves clinging stubbornly to the crooked branches. The sky his behind pearlescent silver-grey clouds, and Phil knew it would rain again in a bit, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

“I broke up with my girlfriend last summer,” Dan said abruptly. “We had been together for three years. I spent so much time on her over the years. I'd take her on surprise dates, I'd listen to whatever she wanted to talk about, I'd be there for her if her parents were fighting.

“But when we headed off to uni, she was going to be in one place and I was going to be in another and we decided to call it off.”

Dan's hands trembled suddenly. He stuffed them in his pocket.

“That's a lie,” he said quietly. “She decided. I thought we could do it, you know? I was going to be the perfect husband. I was going to study law so she'd have a comfortable life, and four years would be nothing when we'd have the rest of our lives to spend together.

“But she said she wanted a break, that long-distance relationships never work out anyway, that we should be open to meeting new people. So, we eventually called it off a week before we left our hometown.”

Phil wasn't about to stop Dan talking, but he hummed deep in his throat, just to let Dan know he was there for his friend.

“I loved her so much, you know?” Dan said, his voice soft, cradled between the two of them. “I loved her so fucking much, so I agreed to her terms. We'd take a four year break, then we'd get back together.”

There was a pause, one long enough that Phil gently promoted Dan. “What's happened?”

Dan let out a breath. “She messaged me on Facebook. Said she didn't think we'd get back together because she'd met someone. I looked at all her recent posts, for the first time in weeks, and all I could find was pictures of her and this guy and I _know_ we aren't together anymore but I was…” Dan was gasping now, chest shuddering in and out. “I was going to wait for her, you know? I was going to wait forever for her.”

Dan stopped walking, covering his eyes with his hands, hiding himself from Phil. 

“I was going to wait forever, Phil, just to be with her. I melted down this weekend. I'm sorry … I'm sorry I didn't reply to your texts and stuff, but I couldn't drag myself out if my slump and now … and now I'm stuck with a degree I don't want and shitty parents and only one friend…”

“One friend who cares so much about you,” Phil whispered.

Dan’s made a choked-off noise before saying thickly, “Thanks.”

Phil gave him a small smile. “I'm sorry this is happening to you. It puts my whining into perspective.”

Dan reached out and touched Phil’s face. “I don't mind. And you're going through a lot of shit.”

“Literally, on Saturday,” Phil said.

Dan's face spasmed. “Oh God, how bad was it?”

"So, bad, oh my God."

Dan's lips quirked. "Tell me more."

Phil hesitated. “Do you want to talk about that, or your issues?”

Dan breathed out a laugh. “Distract me, please? Just—Just for this walk. Then we can talk about mine later.”

“Okay,” Phil said, and gave Dan another sad, small smile. “Whatever you need.”

Dan returned the smile. “Thank you.”

They let the words hang in the frigid air between them for a few precious seconds before Phil lightly cleared his throat.

“Okay,” he said. “So, I met up with my parents before we went to the house…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, bit of backstory on Dan! Poor guy...
> 
> Also, a situation similar to the Ellie thing happened to me and my family. I was the Phil in the situation. It wasn't remotely fun. And there was a _lot_ of dog poop involved. So ... yeah. Lesson learned for trusting maybe-almost-friends! \O/


	16. Chapter 16

“I want to bake,” Phil said before biology began when Dan slid into his usual seat next to Phil.

It was Wednesday, the day after their walk on the frozen path in the woods. The walk seemed divorced from the cheerfully warm lecture hall, with its murmur of voices and its stark bright lights.

“Bake what?” Dan asked, setting his bag onto the chair between them and unzipping it, pulling out his journal. Phil came back to the present with a jolt.

He shrugged in response before thinking. “Cupcakes?”

Dan's eyes lit up. “Sounds great. Uh, do you know how to bake?”

“Um, no,” admitted Phil. “But how hard can it be?”

Dan gave him a look that clearly said, are you being serious right now?

“What?” Phil demanded. “We have the Internet to tell us what to do!”

Dan raised his hand to his brow, face creased in consternation. “ _Phil…_ ”

Phil giggled, but they both quieted as the professor entered the room and began the lecture.

“When will we do it?” Dan muttered, angling his body so Phil could hear him better.

“Night before Halloween?” Phil suggested.

Dan looked at him blankly for a moment before his mouth fell open a little bit.

“We could always just do it on Halloween,” Dan whispered before Phil could ask what was going through his head.

Phil grinned. “Yeah,” he replied. “That sounds amazing.”

They grinned at each other for a long moment before Phil turned his attention back to the front of the hall, back to the lecture.

He could feel Dan’s presence near him, and Phil, strangely, felt content.

***

_**Marcus 12:37 PM**  
hey, want to hang out soon??_

Phil blinked down at his phone, carefully angled so that the professor wouldn’t catch him. Though he had been riding on the high that came from making plans with Dan, Phil felt his mood deflate slightly at Marcus’s text. He’d almost become used to the knowledge that Marcus was ignoring his existence.

Still, Phil bit his lip and typed out his reply.

_**Phil 12:38 PM**  
Sure! When?_

_**Marcus 12:39 PM**  
Sunday? walk or something?_

_**Phil 12:39 PM**  
Sounds good. Can’t wait :3_

Phil clicked his screen dark after that and tried to focus on the last ten minutes of his class, but his mind was loud, now, running in circles that weren’t even formulated into words and were instead an enormous mess of chaotic noise.

He hated it when his mind got that way. He wished he could put his earbuds in and drown it all out with his music, but he couldn’t, not yet.

Instead, he focused on counting down the minutes until he could leave, writing down a few story ideas as they came to him and idly listening to the topics cast about during the moments of discussion.

He felt indescribably nervous about hanging out with Marcus. Where once he would anticipate and enjoy Marcus’s presence, now Phil only felt something akin to dread. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t been around Marcus for months now—if he though back, he had been worried about Marcus pulling away towards the end of last year, too, and they had barely hung out over the summer—or perhaps it was simply because Phil was making things awkward.

Probably the latter was true.

Phil felt uncomfortable around Marcus now. He wasn’t sure how to act around his friend, unsure what to say and how to move his limbs. His smile felt stiff, frozen on his face.

He had never been good at reading people. He wasn’t one for subtlety, the finer expressions of love going straight over his head. It’s one of the reasons his friends used to tease him about, for though people rarely flirted with him, when they did, Phil wasn’t able to pick it up, or only felt uncomfortable, though he didn’t know why at such a young age.

So, as a result, Phil had no idea if Marcus _wanted_ to be around him or not. Sure, Marcus was popping in once or twice every two weeks or so to catch up on Phil’s life for ten minutes, but it wasn’t like it used to be.

Maybe it was just in Phil’s head.

Maybe it was all just Phil.

He closed his eyes as soon as the class over over and took a small, fortifying breath. He was fine, he told himself. He was okay, everything was okay, and he could be strong.

Phil grabbed his backpack and hurried out of the room before he was the only person left in there and began making his way through the halls of the English department building back to his flat.

After all, it wasn’t like he had anywhere else to be.

As he pushed into the bright sunlight, he glanced at his phone to see a text from Marcus.

_**Marcus 12:40 PM**  
Great!_

Phil couldn’t stop his mind from wondering if Marcus was sincere or not.

***

The week passed much as it always did. With Halloween next Tuesday, the people around him were buzzing with costume ideas and proclamations to eat as much candy as possible.

Phil didn’t join them and no one invited him to. He was well-liked, but he wasn’t liked enough to be included in anything.

Usually, that wouldn’t get to him. Usually, Phil would brush those thoughts off and go about his way. But usually, Phil had Marcus to talk to to stave off any encroaching feelings of loneliness.

He didn’t have Marcus anymore.

So, on a cloudy Friday afternoon, Phil found himself huddled in his jacket as he made his way to the library. He didn’t particularly _need_ to be in the library, but his thoughts were getting too loud for the small space that was his room, and the jittery feelings in his joints spurred him to leave his room and trudge his way to the library.

Putting up his head against the drizzle, Phil made his way to the center of the campus where the university center and the library huddled together against the grey. He pushed open the doors and made his way inside, past the lobby with its reception desk and to the hall beyond where the books began.

To his left, a staircase led to the upper and lower levels. Phil took it, going up to the third floor, which was his favorite. There was a little nook tucked away behind the rows of books where a little area of squashy armchairs and low-lying coffee tables surrounded a fluffy rug. No one was there, as it was out of the way of the more frequented areas.

Phil had found it when a group project back in his first year had decided to meet here to work on the project. Phil had already done the project, having panicked a few weeks earlier over the due date. When he admitted he’d already done everything, the leader of the project asked everyone to look it over and had spent the time chatting with Phil, putting him more at ease with the small group of strangers who all felt, somehow, older and more mature than him, though he was the same age as most of them.

He sank into the armchair facing the window and let the cold grey light settle on his face until he was so covered with light that he thought if anyone were to look at him, he wasn’t sure his features would be seen.

There was no one to look at him and tell him this, so Phil satisfied himself with that thought and pulled a book out from under his jacket.

He hadn’t wanted to do school work. It was Friday, and though he usually liked to get his homework done as early as possible so as to have as much of Saturday and Sunday to himself, today he just couldn’t be bothered.

Instead, he pulled the latest book he had been reading— _The Invisible Library_ —out from under his jacket. It was good, though he dreaded having to plough through the impending romantic subplot.

Untangling his earbuds, Phil set his iPod to _The Fellowship of the Ring_ soundtrack and settled in to enjoy himself.

He read for hours, letting the world wash over him as music colored the words, and Phil found himself smiling, blissfully nothing and no one, a bodiless and voiceless presence in the story.

The world of books was much better than the world he dwelled in. Much, much better. In fact, he didn’t come to until the sun was sinking, and the only reason he left was because his phone was vibrating in his pocket.

Hardly anyone texted or called Phil. After all, he was no one’s first thought when they decided they wanted to have a good time.

So, with curiosity bubbling in his fingertips, Phil opened the text.

_**Dan 3:45 PM**  
i’m booooooored_

_**Phil 3:45 PM**  
And that’s my problem…?_

_**Dan 3:46 PM**  
:( don’t be mean_

_**Phil 3:46 PM**  
I’m not being mean! Sorry. What’s up?_

_**Dan 3:46 PM**  
just wondering if you want to hang out._

_**Phil 3:47 PM**  
I’m at the library_

_**Dan 3:47 PM**  
mind if i come?_

_**Phil 3:47 PM**  
Nope._

_**Dan 3:48 PM**  
don’t tell me where you are i’m going 2 find yuo like i’m a tracker or some shit_

_**Phil 3:49 PM**  
Lol good luck!_

Phil clicked his phone dark and went back to reading, sinking deeper into the chair. He didn’t want to go back to his book only to be interrupted when Dan showed up, so instead he just watched the sky, the clouds, and the distant figures of people walking across campus.

The music still played in his ears, and Phil nestled deeper into the cushion of the armchair, humming a few strains as he summoned up the motivation.

At least ten minutes passed before his phone buzzed, and Phil dug it out to see that Dan had sent him a text.

_**Dan 4:03 PM**  
i almost said marco polo to find you & then remembered i was in a library_

Phil couldn’t help but giggle, muffling the sound behind his hand.

_**Phil 4:03 PM**  
Lol, don’t do that, Dan!_

_**Dan 4:03 PM**  
:p_

Dan and Phil texted back and forth as Dan wandered around the library, complaining about the students he saw who have him weird or dirty looks because (as Dan said) he was “breathing too loud.”

Phil heard Dan at one point—or, who he assumed was Dan—stalking around the bookshelves a few meters away, muttering under his breath. 

Grinning, Phil covered his mouth with his hand so he didn't breathe too loud and give his position away.

Eventually, Dan moved away to the fourth floor, texting Phil as he went.

_**Dan 4:27 PM**  
ugh, ive climbed sooo many stairs >.<_

_**Phil 4:28 PM**  
*gasp* is Dan doing exercise???_

_**Dan 4:28 PM**  
stfu_

Phil could help but smile down at the screen. There was a light space under under the flesh of his chest, and he didn't know how to describe just how it made him feel.

The human language was not equipped to describe emotions.

_**Phil 4:28 PM**  
Want a hint?_

_**Dan 4:28 PM**  
nooooo i can do this!!_

Phil raised an eyebrow and resettled himself against the cushion.

Sure enough, another text came in.

_**Dan 4:29 PM**  
...okay, im on floor 5 and exhausted where tf are you_

_**Phil 4:29 PM**  
Try the third floor :p_

_**Dan 4:29 PM**  
what the fuck???_

Phil muffled his giggles again as he heard, distant but growing louder, the _stomp, stomp_ of someone moving down the stairs without a care for how loud they are.

He listened to Dan stalk between the shelves, drawing closer with each second.

As soon as Dan drew near, Phil was able to hear him mutter, “Make me walk all the way up to the top floor, you asshole, holy shit I'm winded, what the fuck, you sadist…”

Dan nearly passed Phil's little alcove but Phil, taking mercy, uncovered his mouth and let put a soft giggle.

The footsteps froze. Then, slowly, they retraced until Dan was peering into the little space Phil occupied.

The expression on his face was priceless, and Phil burst out laughing before covering his mouth again.

“You little fucker,” Dan said, moving into the nook and sinking into the other armchair. 

“Sorry,” Phil said. In the back of his mind, he worried that Dan was actually upset, but those worries vanished as Dan's grumpy expression crumbled, and soon the two of them were giggling to each other.

“You little fucker,” Dan repeated with much less heat. “You absolute spork.”

“Hey!” Phil protested. “You're just bad at finding stuff!”

“Me?” spluttered Dan. “This place is practically the Room of Requirement!”

“Well, I did hide it with my wizard powers,” Phil said.

“I knew it,” Dan said.

“Whoever's laughing, stop!” a whispered about came from somewhere in the depths of the library.

“Sorry,” Phil whisper-shouted back.

He looked back over to see Dan’s mirthful brown clinging in the dying grey light.

They giggled again, quieter this time.

“So, tell me,” said Dan. “What is Phil Lester doing in a library of all places.”

Phil raised an eyebrow and tapped his book. “Reading.”

Dan snorted. “I didn’t realize people still did that for fun.”

“Hey!” Phil protested, quietly. “Books are awesome!”

“Uh huh, sure,” muttered Dan. “What are you reading?”

Phil showed him. “It’s a place where they go into parallel universes to look for and collect books.”

“Huh. They must really love books.”

“ _Some_ of us do,” Phil said.

“Fuck off,” Dan said. “I’m here, among the books, aren’t I?”

Phil leaned forward and patted Dan’s knee, staring at him solemnly. “Thank you for your sacrifice.”

Dan made an indignant squeaking sound. “Oh fuck _off._ ”

Phil felt so light.

***

When Phil finally made it back to his room, it was nearing nine o’clock and Phil was feeling drained.

However, when he entered the room, he found that friends of Marcus and Curtis were jam-packed inside, drinking and making food.

Phil felt horror and terror well up in his throat, because while he could just be rude and ignore everyone, escaping to his room, he wasn’t that sort of person, and the compulsion to make nice and engage in small talk was overwhelming because what if they thought he was a horrible person? What if they thought he didn’t like them?

There was enough bad in the world. Phil didn’t want to contribute to it. He just wanted to be nice and make people smile and bring a little bit of sunshine into their lives.

He just … Didn’t want to tonight. He wanted to be in his room. He wanted to be alone. He wanted … He wanted to just be Phil.

“Hey!” Curtis called out. Phil didn’t think Marcus, who sat on the stained couch with Erika, had even noticed him. Or even wanted to notice him. Maybe Phil embarrassed him.

“Hey!” he replied, a beat off, though Curtis didn’t seem to notice.

“You have a good day?” Curtis asked before looking away and laughing at something one of the girls said.

“Yeah,” Phil said, just loud enough for Curtis to hear. Then, before Curtis could try to talk some more, Phil began pushing his way towards the hall and towards his room. He passed by Marcus, wondered briefly if Marcus would remember their scheduled walk on Sunday, passed by too quickly for the thought to catch.

He didn’t realize until he was opening his door that a few of the partiers had followed him.

“Hey, is this your room?” one of them asked from behind Phil.

Phil jumped and looked over his shoulder, feeling panicky and irritated.

“There’s no other reason I’d go inside,” he said.

“Can we see?” another asked, looking eager. “We’ve never been in the flats before!”

Phil backed into his room and they followed him, invading his space, invading his life, and Phil wanted to throw up, he wanted to tell them to _go away, get out,_ but he didn’t. He didn’t say anything, just let them _ooh_ and _ahh_ over his posters and his book collection and his little reading nook and how _nice his room was set up_ and how _clean it was, mine’s so dirty right now_ and Phil bit back any harsh words his mind provided. He just smiled and nodded at them, doing his best to answer their questions and feeling more and more stupid each time they asked a question he didn’t know the answer to. He wondered if this is what zoo animals felt like.

By the time most of them left, the jittery feeling had returned, and despite how much he wanted to leave and take a walk around the campus, he didn’t. For one, he might accidentally stumble into some horror movie, being so late at night, and for another, he’d have to face the mass of people just a few few away.

He honestly didn’t know which was more terrifying.

One of the partiers stayed behind in his room. A freshman like Dan, he was shy and awkward and seemed really hard to be friendly, most likely thinking befriending Phil would be easy.

Unfortunately, Phil didn’t connect with the boy as much as he had with Dan and despite how much the boy—Ethan—was trying to be nice, Phil was too drained and too annoyed to really want to make a new friend.

Though he did end up walking Ethan home as Ethan had lost his key and was small enough that Phil was worried Ethan would get attacked, by the time Phil returned to his room with Ethan’s number on his phone, he just wanted to go to bed.

Instead, he stayed up and watched YouTube videos for a few hours. It was Friday, after all, and Phil always hated going to bed in a bad mood.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 33 MINUTES LONG! Dude, who else loved the video? Ahhhhh, it was so great :D

It was almost ten o’clock at night when Marcus entered Phil’s room.

First there was a knock, soft, fleeting. Then there was a slight creak as the door swung open just enough for a slice of the outside to shine through. In that crack, a face peered in, sliced between the wall and Phil's door.

“Hey,” Marcus said, quietly, as if afraid of interrupting Phil’s world.

“Hey,” replied Phil, tone normal, or as normal as he could make it.

Marcus stepped inside. Where once Phil would gladly let Marcus into his room without an invitation, now the fact itched at the back of his brain. Why did Marcus get to waltz in and out of Phil's life whenever he pleased? Why did Phil always feel like such a bother when he tried to do the same to Marcus?

Phil was, as always it seemed, on his bed. His laptop, settled on a lapboard, was lying on his thighs. Headphones were over his ears, though one was pushed back so that he could hear Marcus. The soft melodies of Ed Sheeran’s _A Team_ drifted into the ear still covered. He didn’t see a hint of an apology on Marcus’s face, nor any sign that Marcus had remembered at all.

The thought twisted in his gut. Phil tried to feel angry, but he didn't.

He never felt angry anymore. Just tired.

He shoved his laptop off his legs, yanking the headphones away from his head. He didn't want to be sitting, suddenly. His joints felt jittery.

Phil slid off his bed and leaned against his desk, watching Marcus, who'd tracked his movements with dark and glittering eyes.

“So.” Marcus shifted on his feet. “Good weekend?”

“It was alright,” Phil said.

It was awkward. Why was it awkward? Phil was making it so, probably. Phil made little things into big things. Phil couldn't even be friends with someone right.

Unbidden, he felt the uncomfortable itch that came before tears. Phil didn’t cry often, but right there, in his dimly lit room, confronted by Marcus, Phil felt very small and very, very fragile.

“I, um.” Phil didn’t know where he was going with the sentence. But he’d started it, so he’d finish it. “My parents visited yesterday.”

“Really?” Marcus said. “That’s great! How are they doing?”

Phil shrugged. “They’re okay.”

He had so much he wanted to tell Marcus, and yet nothing he wanted to vocalize. It had been weeks since he felt he could talk to Marcus, and now he was feeling the toll of that time pressing down on his tongue. Marcus hadn’t been around to hear about how Dan and tried to find him in the library. Marcus hadn’t been around to hear about Dan’s meltdown, or the aftermath of Ellie, or the crushing misery Phil had been feeling as a result a loneliness only slightly dampened when he was around PJ and Dan.

Phil missed Marcus.

When Phil finally propelled himself away from his thoughts, he found a few tears trickling down his face and Marcus looking at him with frank concern.

“Sorry,” Phil gasped. “I-It’s been a hard day to be around people.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Marcus asked, slowly, as if Phil was a startled animal.

 _Yes,_ Phil’s mind said, but he couldn’t decide if he wanted Marcus to stay and never leave or get out and leave him alone.

Phil had become so used to _being_ alone, away from Marcus, that as much as he wanted to be around his friend again, he wasn’t sure _how_ to, anymore.

“No,” he said instead, because it was simpler, because then Marcus shouldn’t have to deal with the mess that was Phil’s mind and emotions. He shouldn’t have to deal with the weak creature Phil was and always had been.

“Okay,” Marcus said, and though it seemed like he wanted to say something else, he instead fell quiet. Phil wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not that Marcus hadn’t pried.

“How about you and Erika?” Phil asked, trying to think of _anything_ to say to get their conversation to even resemble what their conversations used to be like.

Marcus’s face didn't light up, but it brightened. They both ignored the tear tracks still dripping down Phil’s face. “We got together. About ten minutes ago. We’re official.”

Phil tried to muster up some happiness. He was so used to smiling that he could make any smile look natural, and he was sure his whole face was beaming. “That's amazing, Mar!”

Marcus ducked his head, looking pleased and so, so happy. “Yeah. I’m really happy about that, too.”

“I'm glad you've sorted yourself out,” Phil said, and found himself sincere. Marcus’s happiness always brought Phil happiness.

“Yeah,” Marcus said. “Thanks. Hey, we're going to go to the ice cream place. Wanna come?”

Phil throat clogged up. “I'm not good around people today.” More tears trickled down his face. “I can't even keep it together around you.”

Marcus didn't look surprised. He just looked resigned. “Alright. You sure you're going to be okay?”

 _No._ “Yeah, I'll be fine. Have fun. Tell Erika I said hi.”

“Will do. Hey, Phil? Have a good night.”

“Yeah,” Phil said, watching Marcus leave, feeling a tear drip off his chin onto his shirt. “You, too.”

The door closed behind Marcus. Phil breathed in the silence, wiped away his tears, climbed back into his bed, tugged his laptop back to him, and let himself disappear from the world.

Reality wasn't worth the strife.

***

The day after Marcus forgot about their plans to spend the day hanging out together, Phil did his best to forget, too.

He didn't need the reminder that he was no longer important enough in Marcus’s life. He didn’t need the reminder that he was so unimportant, now, that Marcus was quite willing to forget about their plans.

True, Phil hadn't reminded him, but he didn't want to be whiny when Marcus was always so busy, and he wanted Marcus to _want_ to hang out with him—if someone wanted to do something, they were less likely to forget about it, right?

And besides, it wasn't Phil's job to remind Marcus to act like a best friend, right?

Phil had arrived earlier than he had needed to for the class, but he couldn’t stand the thought of sitting in his room where Marcus had stood just the night before, and so, with nearly forty minutes before the class started, he’d packed up and headed for the building. For the remaining thirty minutes, he sat, hunched in an old armchair, scribbling away at a map until the class before let out and he was allowed to go in.

“You look like crap,” Dan said as he slid into his usual seat in biology about ten minutes before the class started.

“You are the epitome of kindness and tact,” replied Phil without looking up from his small sketchbook, where he was mapping out his main country.

“What the fuck?” Dan said. “I thought you couldn't draw!”

Phil, startled, looked over, pencil hovering in the air. “I can't.”

“Then what the fuck is that?” Dan gestured to the map.

“I mean,” Phil said as he looked down at his drawing. “I'm okay at cartography.”

“Oh, fuck you, Lester, that's amazing,” Dan said, swaying closer, as if he wanted to get a better look, but didn't want to invade Phil's privacy.

With a laugh, Phil slid his sketchbook closer to Dan, who immediately grabbed it and studied it with an intensity that made Phil smile widely.

“Okay,” Dan said, bobbing his head. “This is cool.”

“It's not finished,” Phil said, tugging the sketchbook back towards him. “I still have to do city placement and lettering, which I suck at…”

“So why have people? Let this planet be free of our destruction.”

Phil laughed again. “Much as I'd love to, this world is already inhabited.”

Dan looked at him, soft and curious. “So, is this, like, you're own world?”

“A world for my book,” Phil admitted.

Dan whistled. “Damn. Do you … Do you mind me asking some questions?”

Usually, Phil found it uncomfortable to talk about his book. It was all in his head, so only he (and, maybe, his parents and brother) knew a whole lot about the book. He'd talk about it to people for their input, advice, and knowledge (worldbuilding was hard work and he needed to know more about the way this world worked, he felt, to make a better world for his book) or because they had asked him for more details and he felt too awkward to withhold information. 

With Dan, he found himself actually willing to talk. 

“I've been working on it for a while,” he said. “Um. Okay. So, this world I'm making is called Weydor, and it's another planet. This is a map of my main country, Forra…”

He settled the sketchbook between them both and began pointing out different areas on the map. Dan, awed, nodded along and asked about the histories and the people who lived in various different areas.

When the time the professor walked into the classroom, Phil found himself disappointed, but he readily put his sketchbook in his backpack and got ready for class.

“Hey,” Dan said, touching his arm. “I really want to know more. You okay with that?”

“Yeah,” Phil said. “Yeah, I am.”

And he meant it.

That little thrill—that finally he found someone who he could talk to about his book without feeling awkward about it—stayed with him the rest of the class, and when Dan followed him out of the room and walked with him to his next class, Phil couldn’t help but smile.

“What?” Dan asked as they pushed the doors open and walked out into the rain.

“Nothing,” Phil said, pulling up his hood. “Just. Happy.”

Dan, whose face was also partially hidden by a hood, grinned. “Yeah, well, Halloween’s tomorrow.”

Phil injected a little spring into his step. “I know! I’m so excited!”

Dan shook his head, his voice laced with amusement. “Dork.”

“Indubitably,” Phil said in a faux-posh voice, giggling at Dan’s groan. “Hey, we still on for baking?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Dan turned his head enough for Phil to see his smile around his hood. “Anyway, I’m going to go disappear into my room. Want to hang out later?”

“Sure,” Phil said. “I’ll be at the Writing Center later today.”

Dan gave him a smile, a little wave, and hurried off into the grey, washed-out campus. Phil watched him for a long few moments before turning his attention once more towards his next class, picking up his pace to get away from the rain faster.

***

Dan showed up at the writing center shortly before Phil’s shift ended.

“Dan!” Phil said, beaming as he stood up, setting his computer aside.

“Hey,” Dan said, nodding awkwardly to Phil’s coworker, who looked at them with an amused smile. “Sorry, project. Wanted to know if you wanted to go grab a bite to eat?”

“Yeah, totally,” Phil said freverently. “I’m off in ten.”

“I know,” Dan said as he wandered over to the couch. He plopped down and stretched his legs out in front of him, under the low coffee table, which was covered in papers Phil had spread out. “How goes things, Riley?”

Riley, Phil’s coworker, snorted. “Good as they can be, Dan.”

Riley was a friendly acquaintance of Phil’s. She had shoulder-length brown hair, glasses, and a bomber jacket she took everywhere in the winter months. She and Phil had known each other for four years, now, and both were graduating in May, but they only really started talking to one another this semester, during this one afternoon when they were both scheduled for the same shift. She was funny and quirky, and they didn’t have much in common.

“That’s good to hear,” Dan said, yawning. “Ugh.”

“You look like shit,” Riley said.

“You’re the picture of kindness and tact,” said Dan, rolling his eyes.

Phil giggled. “You two.”

“Hey, now, Philly,” Riley said, turning back to her essay. “I know you’re just as much of a mess as he is.”

“Am not!” Phil protested. His smile stretched wider than it usually did, but Phil had been in a “blah” mood all day, so he just brushed it off. His body and expressions always felt out-of-control on “blah” days.

“I’m hurt,” Dan said.

Phil made a face at him, which Dan returned.

“You two are such children,” Riley said. “Get going. I can handle this shit well enough without you around. You have, like, five minutes left anyway.”

“You sure?” Phil asked, though he had started shoving his papers into a pile.

“Yeah, yeah.” Riley waved him off. “You two go have fun.”

“We will,” Dan said. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Riley said and fell silent as Phil hurriedly packed up his backpack and made for the door, Dan at his side.

They found their way to a little pizzeria a few blocks away from the campus. It was moderately busy, but not so busy that Dan and Phil needed to wait for seats to open up.

When the hostess showed them to a booth, they thanked her and slid in opposite to one another.

“Long day?” Phil asked.

Dan grimaced. “I hate Law.”

Phil nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Dan shrugged. “Is what it is. Anyway, what’s up with you?”

Phil blinked. “What do you mean?”

Dan sighed. “Phil, I know you’re upset.”

Phil opened his mouth to respond, but a waitress bustled up and took their drink orders with a smile, setting their menus down in front of them.

When she’d left, Phil turned his attention back to Dan. “Sorry, what?”

“You’re upset,” Dan repeated. “Or, something upsetting happened.”

“What? How’d you know?” Phil demanded.

“Your eyes get tight,” Dan said as he gestured to his own face. “You … You tend to act all over-the-top happy and stuff when you’re upset.”

Phil blinked rapidly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dan gave him a look, like _nice try._

Phil had always been a lousy liar, but he wasn’t going to give up.

“I’m fine,” he said shortly, looking down at his menu.

Dan caught his wrist. His fingers were soft and cool against Phil’s skin.

“Phil.” Dan’s voice was soft. Too soft. “What happened?”

Phil just shook his head. “No. I complain too much. I’m fine, Dan. Please. Let’s just … Let’s just enjoy the meal.”

“Phil, you’re my … you’re my friend. I want to help.”

Dan’s voice was achingly soft, vulnerable. Phil didn’t know how to respond to Dan’s admittance, and so he sighed and rested his arm on the table, his forehead pressing against the heel of his palm.

“God,” Phil whispered, not looking at Dan. “I’m such a crybaby, you know? Or, maybe it’s just that I work on a different wavelength than other people. Did everyone but me get some sort of handbook when we were teens that I missed? Because I just feel so out of step, you know, and maybe this is all just normal and I’m overreacting because I _always_ overreact…”

“Phil,” Dan interrupted. “Please. What happened?”

Phil breathed in, breathed out. When he began speaking, he forced his tone to remain even and calm.

“Marcus and I were supposed to go on a walk yesterday and Marcus forgot. Completely. It’s not really any big deal, you know? Like, it’s not the end of the world. I shouldn’t be acting this upset. I shouldn’t be this upset. But I was really sure he’d at least make an attempt to remember we were going to hang out, you know? I really hoped he’d care enough to want to remember we’d made plans.”

“Phil, it’s understandable—”

“I don’t want justification, Dan,” Phil interrupted. “I’m just … really sick of people telling me how I’m acting is okay. That’s—I don’t want to be handled gently, okay, I’m not a fucking kid like everybody seems to think I am. _Everyone_ treats me like I’m a kid, like I’m younger than them and I’m _not_. I just had a bad day, I just vented, can we move on now?”

Dan sat there in silence. “I’m sorry.”

Phil pressed his hands against his face for a moment. “I’m not angry at you. I’m just … Frustrated. At the people around me. I’m so sick of this town. I’m really ready to be done with university. I feel so stifled here by everyone’s expectations of me. Everyone’s got me in neat little boxes and they’re so sure of those boxes that I don’t want to act out, because they’re nice people, and I don’t want to make them feel bad.”

Dan’s expression didn’t change. Phil was starting to feel desperate. _This_ was why he kept some of his thoughts to himself. Sure, he’d ramble about his day and his surface thoughts, but Phil hated talking about some things, like how people treated him. It always made the listener feel bad.

“I’m sorry,” Phil said. “You’re not … Dan, you’re fine.”

“No, I’m not,” Dan said. “I’m sorry for how I’ve been treating you.”

“It’s not you,” Phil said. “Really. You’ve been … You’ve been really wonderful, you know?” His voice cracked slightly. “I’m just tired. And frustrated. Ignore everything I just said.”

The waitress came back with their drinks, and Phil drank his water to avoid looking at Dan.

“Do people really treat you like a kid?” Dan asked.

Phil shrugged, set his cup down, and clasped his hands on his lap. “It feels that way. I’m probably overthinking everything and making it all up.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I spend a lot of time in my head,” Phil admitted as Dan took a sip of his Diet Coke. “Besides you and my mum, I don’t really have a lot of people I really want to talk to, you know? You and I became friends really fast, Dan, but for the most part, I tend to just stick to certain topics around people.”

“Like what?” Dan asked.

“Books, movies, TV shows,” Phil said. “Coursework. Jokes and funny stuff. Nothing ever really all that deep, you know?”

“That’s, like, all we talked about in the beginning,” Dan said.

“Exactly,” Phil said. “Now, look, I’m making you feel bad by talking about my thoughts.”

Dan’s face scrunched up for a moment. “I’m glad you told me.”

“I don’t think I explained it well,” Phil said. “For all I talk, I really only communicate a bit about what’s going on in my head, and I don’t think I do it well. I have absolutely nothing against anyone, Dan. Nothing. I just get … salty.”

Dan burst out laughing. “Did you just say ‘salty’?”

Phil grinned. “I did.”

Dan giggled, shaking his head. “You dork.”

The waitress came up to take their order. Phil got a little personal pizza, but Dan went for a calzone.

“Fancy,” Phil teased.

“Shut the fuck up,” Dan said as the waitress left.

Something warm settled in Phil’s chest.

Dan saw it. “What?”

“It’s just … No one ever likes swearing around me.”

“Do you mind?”

“Not a bit. But it’s the child thing—people just don’t want to swear around me.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Dan said.

Phil shrugged. “People don’t make sense, Dan.”

“Fucking tell me about it,” Dan said, holding up his glass for Phil to clink his own against, which Phil gladly did.

The rest of the meal passed pleasantly enough. While Dan tried to coax Phil to talk more about what was going on in his head, Phil refused. There was only so much emotional spillage he’d dump on a person before he felt vulnerable and small in front of him, which tended to ruin his mood.

“I got this,” Phil said as Dan reached for his wallet.

“Phil,” Dan protested, a whiny note in his tone.

“Nope,” Phil said, pulling out his card. “My treat.”

“You’re too nice,” Dan grumbled, but dropped it.

The walk back to the campus was cold. November was almost on them, and as Dan and Phil burrowed deeper into their jackets, they continued to talk, words lazily twisting through the air between them.

“Hey,” Dan said, before he went one way and Phil went another. “For the record? I think you’re amazing. Don’t be mad that you talk about your thoughts.”

Phil shrugged. “Maybe.”

Dan’s fingers touched Phil’s wrist. “Really, Phil. We’re all different. Some people can keep themselves to themselves, some people can’t. I keep things in more than you do, and it’s not doing me many favors, and I don’t understand so much about me, not enough to talk about it like you just did. It’s all fine.”

“No one wants to hear about me,” Phil said. “That’s, like, the most uninteresting thing to talk about.”

“I dunno,” Dan said. “I’m enjoying seeing the world through your eyes. It’s a nice break from the way I see it.” The smile he gave didn’t really reach his eyes, so Phil reached out and pressed his thumb against the corner of Dan’s eye.

“You’re the amazing one,” he said. “I’m really glad we’re friends.”

“Yeah,” Dan said, letting out a sharp breath as Phil pulled away. “Me, too.”

“See you tomorrow, Dan,” Phil said.

“Yeah,” Dan said as he stepped away from Phil. “See you.”

Phil watched him walk away for a moment before turning and hurrying back to his flat.

***

_Group Text: Dad, Martyn, Phil, Marcus  
7:58 PM_

_**Mum:** Hey, all! I think we’re going to call off our Isle of Man trip this year. Any objections?_

_**Martyn:** Nope_

_**Phil:** No :1_

The house was still filthy. It was no fit place to retire, at this point, and certainly not a place to spend time with your friends and family. Phil felt a lump in the back of his throat as he, once more, tried to figure out why Ellie had done this.

There isn’t a reason, he told himself. Not one you’ll ever be satisfied with, at least.

He tried not to let it get to him that Marcus never replied and didn’t come and ask Phil why the trip had been called out.

Phil just tried not to think about Marcus at all right then.

It was easier than it should have been.

Marcus was fading from Phil’s life.

The thought was painful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, funny story, I actually started writing this story for NaNoWriMo last year. The first week, I wrote, like, 10,000 words in a day (it was awesome, but wow, that hurt lol) and the whole Marcus/Erika thing happened like a week before I started writing. Editing this brought on SO many memories I was happier forgetting lol. A lot of this story is still unwritten, mind, but I think that scene was what really prompted me to write this story.


	18. Chapter 18

Halloween day was bright, crisp, and clear.

Phil lay in bed, watching the white morning light slink in from underneath his blinds. It looked cold from where he lay beneath his warm sheets, but Phil was always a terrible judge of temperature.

He groaned and rolled out of his bed. The cold air hit his exposed arms and face, and Phil shivered until he grabbed a sweater slung over his desk chair, tugging it on and then fumbling for his glasses.

As Phil got ready for the day, he heard Marcus, Curtis, and Ellery talking from the common room. While Phil didn’t really want to interact with them, he did have to use the bathroom.

He ducked in, keeping his head down and hoping none of them noticed him.

Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. Either way, no one called out to him and Phil was able to return to his room and spend an hour or so in peace and quiet.

Just the way he liked it.

He and Dan didn’t share a class that day, so Phil didn’t see him. He went to one of his history courses and caught up with homework during his break between history and his writing course.

An ordinary, quiet sort of day.

Phil liked routine. He liked following the same thing every day. If Phil didn’t have to interact with people and do things outside of his routine, he would be fine. It was familiar. It was comforting. It made sure his mind didn’t get too loud trying to figure out how to grasp some semblance of familiarity out of the unknown.

It was part of the reason Phil didn’t like doing things with other people. Other people weren’t _him._ They didn’t want to do what Phil wanted to do. Phil wanted to spend hours in his own company doing the things he liked without worrying if he was boring others. Phil wanted to just … be alone. Because if he was alone, he wasn’t disappointing anybody. He wasn’t boring anybody.

When Phil was alone, he was free.

Which was why, though he looked forward to spending time with Dan, Phil also had some reservations.

He had swung by the university center to grab a coffee before his writing course and spotted Dan hunched over a laptop in the sitting area. After placing his order, Phil meandered over to Dan.

“Hey,” he said. “Am I bothering you?”

Dan looked up, blinked, and then smiled. “Nope.”

Phil took the chair next to him. “I have class in fifteen minutes.”

“Same.” Dan laughed slightly, looking down at his laptop. “I was just killing time looking at Tumblr.”

“Oh my God,” Phil said. “You do Tumblr?”

“You make it sound like drugs,” Dan said, amused.

Phil’s lips twitched. “It isn’t? I thought it was…”

Dan rolled his eyes and clicked his touchpad. “Alright, dork. What’s your username?”

“AmazingPhil,” Phil answered, pulling out his phone and bringing up the app. “What’s yours?”

A notification popped up. _danisnotonfire is now following you._

“Seems we both have cringe names,” Phil observed.

“Shut up,” Dan said. “I was young and stupid when I made it.”

Phil looked at him. “No judgement from me.”

Dan’s eyes softened. “Yeah. Thanks. Imagine if that’s how everyone knew me, though.”

“What? Dani Snot On Fire? It’s not _that_ bad…”

Dan shoved at him, whining, “ _Phil!_ ”

Phil was laughing so hard he almost missed his name being called.

“Be right back,” he said, striding over to the counter and grabbing his drink.

“You're a terrible person,” Dan grouched when Phil returned. 

“I think you mean I'm an _amazing_ person,” Phil countered, giggling when Dan groaned.

They sat in silence for a few moments, Phil blowing onto his coffee and Dan scrolling down through Tumblr.

“Oh, hey,” Dan said just as Phil remembered he had to get to class. “What are we making tonight?”

“I have no idea,” Phil said. “We'll figure that out tonight.”

“Sounds great,” Dan said as Phil stood.

“See you later!” Phil gave Dan a little waved and hurried off, towards his last class.

***

Thoughts were cruel things, Phil thought as he slunk out of the classroom. They crept up on you and wound around you so quietly you didn’t even know you were ensnared until he felt the claws of ideas sink deep into your flesh.

Phil found a little alcove, which were plentiful in this particular building, and slid in. He bent his knees and rested his chin on them, his hands fumbling for his iPod.

As a kid, as a teen, even now, as a young adult, Phil wanted to be strong. He wanted to be strong like all the heroes in his books. He wanted to be strong like all the people fighting for change. He wanted to be strong like his mother and father. He wanted to be able to take the hits life threw his way and bounce back up for more.

Phil didn't feel like a strong person. Phil felt like every time something small came his way, he collapsed in on himself and onto everyone around him. Every time something came his way, every time he felt the slightest pressure, he folded.

It didn’t matter what placations people tried to give him. It didn’t matter what kind words people tried to offer. He knew the truth.

Phil was not strong.

Phil was weak.

It was something he hated about himself, yet had no idea how to change. How do you change your brain chemistry? How do you tell your mind to stop being so overwhelmed a the time, to chill out and stay calm?

Phil's greatest enemy had never been the people around him with their false smiles and the ulterior motivations. Phil's greatest enemy was his own mind, and he had no way to escape it.

He took a deep breath and slid in his earbuds. His thoughts were so fast now, that while only a few minutes had passed, he felt as if an eternity had just passed within the confines of his mind. Too much noise. Too much pressure. There was so much wrong with him but how can he change? How can he—

Phil pressed play and listened to the opening riffs of _Thnks fr th Mmrs_ enter his ears. He focused on the song, not himself. He focused on something that wasn’t his own stupid, incapable, childish mind, and, just for a moment, he could pretend he was someone else.

Someone stronger.

Someone better.

Someone more interesting, more likeable, and nicer than he was.

Someone who was just more.

Phil stayed in the alcove for ten minutes. He breathed slowly and evenly. So as to look less awkward, Phil had pulled a book out of his backpack and pretended to read. It was his history book, which he hadn’t touched since the first week of class after realizing he didn’t need it. The professor had threatened to pull material for the quiz for tomorrow’s class, which was why Phil had even bothered to remember the book existed.

So, there he stayed as he blocked his thoughts and shoved them away from him and did his best to ignore who he was.

_No wonder Marcus left,_ Phil thought as he packed away his book and strode down the hallway. _I don’t even want to be around me._

Somehow, that thought was comforting. At least that was one less person he loved who could avoid getting affected by his mess.

***

Marcus, Curtis, and Ellery had been bemoaning the fact that Halloween was on a weekday, since they all wanted to go out and get drunk. Phil, however, didn't care.

Phil never wanted to go out. He always wanted to be alone by ten at night, content with himself and with his reading.

That was when Phil was happiest.

As the friends of his roommates came and went in preparation for a night out regardless, some chatted to Phil about the upcoming night. Phil pasted a smile on his lips and nodded along with them, not really taking in what they were saying. He felt uncomfortable around them, strangers with semi-familiar faces that they were.

He didn’t think about how Marcus still wasn’t hanging out with him. He wasn’t thinking about how upset he was at his best friend.

Phil was, instead, thinking about how he couldn’t wait for Dan to show up.

He was waiting in his room, hoping that his roommates and all their friends would leave so he and Dan could have the place to himself when Dan texted.

Dan was supposed to be over at five, and as Phil anxiously waited for the rest of the inhabitants to _leave already,_ he cleaned his room.

He wasn’t a messy person by any stretch, and he often likened his system to organized chaos. While it was true his multi-colored socks tended to end up hanging off the back of his chair and the sides of his hamper and his papers covering his desk wasn’t exactly neat, his floor was clean and he kept everything tidy.

“Phil!” he heard someone call. “Someone’s ‘ere for ya!”

Phil stumbled to his feet and cracked open his door, seeing Dan awkwardly standing at the junction of the hallway and the common room.

“Hey, Dan,” Phil said.

“Dan!” he heard one of the strangers call. “That party was lit, yeah?”

Dan shot a forced smile over his shoulder before hurrying over to Phil and stepping inside Phil’s room.

“Party?” Phil asked.

Dan grimaced as Phil closed the door. “Nothing much. Just had a drink and went home.”

“Oh.” Phil blinked. “Do you go to parties often?”

Dan shook his head. “Used to, at the beginning of the year. I used to go out every weekend. No so much, now. You?”

“Never been,” Phil said. “Never interested me.”

Dan’s lips quirked. “Of course not.”

Phil felt embarrassed, and his ducked his head and shuffled his feet. “What do you want to make?”

“Cookies?” Dan suggested. “Surely we can’t fuck those up.”

“I think you’re underestimating our abilities,” Phil said.

Dan snorted. “You’re absolutely right, oh my God.”

They looked on Phil’s phone for an easy recipe, and when they finally found one, Phil grabbed his wallet and, together, they left the flat to get their supplies.

***

Dan looked at Phil and their eyes met. “Can you cook?” Dan asked as he gestured to their ingredients.

Phil shook his head. “Not even a little bit.”

“Oh yeah,” Dan said, turning towards the assembled materials. “This’ll be … successful. Really, really successful.”

Phil couldn’t help but grin.

Baking with Dan went rather like this: Egg shells ended up in the bowl, flour split all over their clothes, and they might have put in a bit too much salt (alright, maybe way too much salt.) Halfway through Dan accidentally nicked himself with the fork tines and sat at the table, a cloth around his finger, ordering Phil about self-righteously.

By the end of it, Dan was screeching, “ _Phil!_ Be careful!” as Phil scooped out balls of cookie dough and plopped them onto the tray.

“I am!” he protested as he dug out another one.

“You’re making them too big.”

“I am not!”

“You are! They’re never going to cook now!”

“It’s fine!”

“No it isn’t!”

“ _Dan…_ ”

“ _Phil…_ ”

Phil pouted before making another little dough ball.

“Stop pinching it,” Dan said. “Just roll it.”

“I’ll roll your mum,” Phil mumbled.

Dan made a derp face. “Guh-hoy.”

Phil giggled, rolling his eyes. “Shut up!”

“Phil! You made another one too big!”

When Phil finally made the first batch and slid it into the oven, he and Dan were nearly in tears laughing and Phil couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun. Maybe never.

“Oh my God,” Dan said, sliding off his chair. “Oh my God. That was ridiculous.”

“They’re going to cook for fifteen minutes now,” Phil said, setting the timer on his phone. “What do you want to do?”

“Let’s go to your room,” Dan suggested. “Start a board game or something.”

They ended up playing Uno, and right as Dan got down to two cards (while Phil had eight and a pout) the timer beeped.

“Cookies!” Dan shouted, scrambling to his feet and charging out of the room, Phil right on his heels.

The cookies had melted together in some areas, but Phil thought they'd taste just fine. He and Dan had made triple chocolate chip, with dark, milk, and white chocolate chunks.

“Oh my God,” Dan moaned as he sniffed the air. “It smells so good!”

“Can we eat them now?” Phil asked, reached for the tray.

“It just came out of the oven!” Dan screeched as he knocked Phil's hand out of the way. “Are you trying to get burned?”

“Maybe,” Phil said. “You're the one who isn't on fire, remember?”

Dan made a face. “Yeah, yeah, you smart ass. Let's let these cookies cool.”

They managed to let the cookies cool for about five minutes before they scooped the not-quite-cooled cookies onto a plate and hightailed it back to Phil's room.

“So,” Dan said as they settled on Phil's bed, propped up on pillows. “It's Halloween. What do you want to watch?”

“Well,” Phil said. “It's not the scariest thing ever, but we just watched _American Horror Story: Freak Show_ in my literature class.”

“Oh my fucking God, yes,” said Dan. “And also, _Stranger Things_ season two is out.”

“An episode or two of each?” Phil suggested.

“And a marathon later to finish it up?” Dan asked.

“Totally,” Phil said.

Dan beamed at him, and as Phil pulled up his computer and got onto Netflix, he felt warm inside.

That warmth didn't go away, even when the time read 11:00 PM when Dan finally headed out and left Phil alone.

Phil didn't feel like he missed out on an evening alone—he felt like he had had a fun evening with a friend.

He had never really felt that way before, but he hoped he could have many more.


	19. Chapter 19

“PJ!” Phil said. “Want a cookie?”

PJ blinked. “You baked?”

“Yeah,” Phil said. “With Dan. Last night.”

Phil was making his way to class he shared with Dan when he ran into PJ. It felt good to see him, and Phil wondered if he ought to hang out with PJ again soon.

“Sure,” PJ said, breaking into Phil’s musings and misting them away as if they had never been there in the first place.

Phil smiled brightly and dug into his backpack for the bag of slightly squashed cookies. He opened the bag and offered one to PJ.

“Thanks, man,” PJ said as he accepted it. “Didn't know you baked.”

“Dan and I were in the mood last night,” Phil said. “We watch some episodes of _Stranger Things_ and baked.”

“Sounds like a good night,” PJ said, grinning as he bit into the cookie. “Y’know, considering you made this—and I assume Dan’s just as bad as you—this isn’t half bad.”

“Gee, thanks.” Despite Phil’s valiant attempt at a sarcastic tone, his laugh broke through his voice halfway.

“Anytime, mate.”

Phil and PJ parted ways, and Phil headed off for his first class. As it was Wednesday, his first class was with Dan, and Phil found himself excited to see Dan again, which wasn’t something he said about anyone before really. Ever. Except his family.

Dan wasn’t there when Phil walked into the lecture hall, but Phil didn’t mind—he was fifteen minutes early anyway, as he had had too much energy to wait in his room those last five minutes.

When he took his seat, he pulled out a sketchpad and started doodling a monster. It wasn’t for his novel or any of his short stories, but he loved seeing where his imagination would take him.

He grew so engrossed with his drawing that Dan managed to get up to his level before Phil finally noticed him and jumped.

“Dan!” Phil said.

Dan was grinning. “Distracted?”

“Just drawing,” Phil said, scooting his chair in so Dan could slide past him. “Sleep well?”

“Ah, yes, small talk,” Dan said as he took his seat. “Slept fine, thanks. Given you’re your usual cheerful self, I’m guessing you did, too.”

“I did,” Phil said. “Tell me you didn’t stay up until three playing Mario Kart or something.”

“I didn’t stay up until three playing Mario Kart or something,” Dan parroted back.

Phil made a face. _“Dan…”_

“What?” Dan demanded. “I didn’t!”

Phil stared at him.

“Okay,” Dan said. “I might have started Googling and stayed up until two, but that’s better than three!”

Shaking his head, Phil said, “I don’t know how you function.”

“Me neither,” Dan said. “At least you go to bed at, like, eleven.”

“Twelve,” Phil corrected. “Sometimes one. Later on the weekends, but they’re, you know, the _weekends._ ”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dan said.

“Here,” Phil said, opening his backpack just enough to reach for the bag of cookies, which he unzipped and showed Dan.

Dan’s eyes grew wide. “You brought _cookies.”_

“I did.” Phil felt ridiculously pleased that he had managed to bring the awed and happy expression to Dan’s face, and he waited for Dan to grab one before he nabbed himself a baked, crumbling helping.

Then, as they ate cookies, they snickered to one another around mouthfuls as they bantered back and forth, stopping only when the professor walked in and started the class.

Phil felt at ease. He felt content.

He felt—dare he say it—somewhat happy.

***

Phil woke up the Friday after Halloween feeling “meh.” He didn’t feel sad or angry or happy. He felt fine, but with a touch of “bleh” and a sprinkling of “ugh.” It sucked that for the amount of emotions the English language could portray, there were still a lot Phil had no name for.

Hence, “meh.”

He stumbled his way through classes that day, doing his best to act happy when talking to Dan and fake his way through all the conversations people engaged him in. Thankfully, he had walked slowly on the way to class, so he only had to socialize with Dan for a few moments before the professor walked in and started the lecture.

The rest of his classes were a haze. If someone, like Dan or Sarah in his English course, asked him if he was alright, he claimed a headache and faked a smile. 

When Phil finally stumbled back to the flat, he felt well and truly drained.

“Hey, Phil,” Ellery said, sitting at the table, working on his laptop.

“Hi,” Phil said, all but fleeing to his room.

Marcus exited his room just as Phil was trying to scoot past, and Phil pressed himself against the wall, hunching his shoulders in as he scurried past Marcus.

“Hi,” Marcus said, already behind Phil.

“Hi,” Phil managed and slammed his door behind him.

Phil dropped his backpack to the ground, kicking it away from him. He shucked his skinny jeans and stiff band shirt and traded them out of dinosaur pyjama pants and a softer Pokemon shirt. Then, he flung himself onto the floor and wriggled under his bed.

He lay on his chest on his blue-and-green carpet, head turned to the side so he could breathe, staring at nothing, unmoving. He should have grabbed his earbuds from his backpack, but his thoughts were so loud and everything about himself felt heavy, hot, and swollen. Phil itched to get out of his skin, to be nowhere, because then at least he wouldn’t have any conscious thought...

“Phil.”

The familiar voice broke through his thoughts, and Phil turned his head to look down past his legs and into his room.

Dan’s head peered around the door, awkwardly angled so that he was still outside Phil’s room while also half-crouching to look around the door at a level where he could meet Phil’s eyes.

“Dan,” Phil croaked, even though he wished Dan would go away and leave him alone. “How’re you … How’re you here?”

“Someone let me in the building,” Dan said. “Then Ellery let me in the flat. I was … you seemed off, earlier. And you weren’t answering your texts.” Phil hadn’t. Texting overwhelmed him, and he either grew irritated that people were trying to talk to him or scared to answer. He had turned his phone off. “Phil, are you okay?”

Phil turned his face away. “I'm fine.”

“You don't look fine.”

Phil closed his eyes. “You can come in.”

He heard Dan enter the room and stop by the side of his bed. “Can I do anything?”

“Unless you know how to do a lobotomy, no.”

Dan sat down in front of Phil’s bed on the floor, near Phil’s long legs. Dan’s thigh pressed into the side of Phil's knee. “Why would you want me to ruin your brain?”

“Why not?” Phil rasped, unable to find the energy to open his eyes. “I've got a useless, stupid brain. Why would I want to keep it?”

“I like your brain.”

Phil squeezed his eyes tight until phosphenes blossomed across the insides of his eyelids. Faint, dull supernovas that wouldn't even touch him, wouldn’t even destroy him.

“I don't know why,” he said once he regained himself. “I don't know why anyone likes me. I'm useless and stupid and so _fucking_ childish and why does anybody want to be around me? Why do they give a shit about me? I don't … I'm nothing special! I'm nothing to write home to! Why would anyone…” His voice trailed off as he was forced to suck in deep breaths. His chest was beginning to ache, all pressed against the floor like it was. Phil ignored the pain.

_Stop talking stop talking stop talking_

Dan had placed his hand on Phil s hip and drew soothing circled across Phil's pyjama pants with his thumb.

_Dan doesn’t want to hear, don’t dump on him, no one wants to hear, you weak little fucker, STOP TALKING_

“Phil, you don't have to be the smartest person on earth for me to like you,” Dan said. Phil looked over at him for a moment to see him hunching awkwardly, sitting up while trying to bend over to looked at Phil.

God, Phil must look like such a mess. Such a baby. Such a stupid, useless, overwhelmed crybaby.

Phil squeezed his eyes shut, and even though he didn’t feel like crying, wasn’t even in the mood to cry, some tears dribbled out anyway. Not sad tears, not happy tears, just the body at work. Even his body wouldn’t let him be properly sad. Just like it wouldn’t let him get properly mad. Just disappointed, just empty.

“Phil,” Dan whispered. “It’s okay. Let it out. I’m here for you.”

He let out a breath that stuck along the insides of his mouth. “But why me, Dan? Why me, when there's so many other people who are better than me at anything I try. I'll never be the best writer. I'll never be the best friend. I'll never be the best student or son or brother and I just don't know why…” _anyone would pick me when they could do better._

Though he didn't say the last part out loud, Dan must have heard it anyway, because he murmured, “I don't care, because none of the other people are there who are better than you do with with the Phil Flare.”

Phil finally cracked his eyes open, gummy with oozing tears.

“Nobody is like you,” Dan said. “Fuck, that sounds cheesy. But nobody is like you. Nobody has your exact brain. Nobody sees the world like you. Nobody has your exact mix of likes and dislikes. Phil, you're amazing because of who you are. I don't give a shit that you could be better, because you're _you_ just like this.”

“I know,” croaked Phil. “People say that all the time.”

“Maybe because it's true,” Dan said.

_It can’t be; I’m too weak._

He must have said that out loud, for Dan said, “You are strong, Phil.”

“You're just being nice, but _look_ at me,” Phil said. “I-I'm lying under my bed crying because one of my oldest friendships is dissolving because I can't even be a friend to someone I love properly and I don't know what to do about it and I'm just so fucking overwhelmed all the time. All the time. How could that be strong, huh? How does that show strength?”

“Phil…”

“I just don't get what about me makes me worth knowing.”

Dan's thumb stopped its circular motion as Dan looked Phil in the eye. “Because I like you. You might not think you're enough, but I see someone who is passionate and kind and trying hard to please everyone even though it's tearing you apart. You just can't stop, because you don't want to hurt anyone. I see someone who hung out with me even though I could tell he wasn't sure if he wanted to or not. 

I see someone who is more incredible than he thinks, because he's let himself get to blinded by negativity and self-doubt he's forgotten how to acknowledge the good parts, too.”

Phil let out a shuddering sob and scooted over so that Dan could join him under the bed on the blue-and-green carpet, which he did. Dan slung one of his arms around Phil’s back, lying on his stomach so that he and Phil could look and one another in the little space between them.

“I see someone who won't let himself see the good in himself because he thinks it's selfish,” Dan murmured. “I see someone who won't let himself be himself because he's convinced there is something wrong with him.”

Phil had started crying in earnest now, real tears for the first time in a long time, ducking his head up against Dan’s shoulder and wetting Dan's shirt. He found himself unable to care.

“I see someone who doesn't see how strong he is because he's convinced himself he's weak.”

Dan pressed his face to the top of Phil head.

“You're not weak, Phil. You really, really aren't.”

“I wish I could believe you,” Phil mumbled.

“I know,” Dan said. “Me, too.”

They lay there for what seemed like hours, just breathing in the silence together.

Phil was having a bad day. Phil was only able to see his faults today, only able to see the ways that he was wrong, the ways that people ought to avoid him because his faults would only bring them down.

He was incoherent. His thoughts were scattered and whirring so fast he could not keep up.

But Dan was here, beside him. Dan was here, and, somehow, Phil felt okay with the fact that someone was in a space where only he had been before, when he was feeling his worst.

“You know what?” Dan said after the silence continued on. Not awkwardly, mind; it just went on.

“No,” Phil said. “What?”

“I want to bake again,” Dan said.

“We have cookies from Tuesday,” Phil pointed out.

Dan waved him off. “I want cupcakes now. Besides, I may have, er, eaten all mine.”

“Dan,” Phil groaned, fondness in his voice.

“I thought you would, too!” Dan said.

“I would, normally, but I was saving them for this weekend when I invited you over for a movie.”

Dan blinked, then smiled. “Thanks. Now, you going to help me bake or not?”

Phil didn’t let himself think about it. He just said, “Sure.”

Following Dan’s tugging, both Dan and Phil scuttled out from under the bed and climbed to their feet.

When they left the room, the flat was empty. Ellery had vacated his seat at the dining table and Marcus was nowhere to be seen. The place was quiet.

“So,” Dan said. “I have no fucking idea how to make them.”

“Google is a magical place,” Phil said.

He felt drained and exhausted, and he didn’t really want to make cupcakes. He had never been very good at spontaneity.

Dan laughed. “Find me a good one. One where we already have all the ingredients. I don’t want to go to the store.”

“Me neither,” Phil admitted. “People would recognize me and try and talk to me.”

Dan shuddered. “The horror.”

“Shove off,” Phil said, pulling out his phone and pulling up his browser.

After a little search, they found one that worked, and Dan set about gathering the materials.

“You, sit,” he told Phil when Phil tried to help.

“I don’t want you doing everything,” Phil said.

“I won’t be,” Dan replied. “But you’re going to talk.”

Phil immediately felt wary. “Talk?”

Dan nodded. “What’s on your mind? What’s been going on? What are your thoughts right now?”

Phil's thoughts were a circle. They never went anywhere. They repeated and repeated until Phil grew sick of them and tried to drown then out with music.

“I don’t really want to talk about that,” he said.

Dan looked over at him. His brown eyes were soft and warm, and Phil had never realized just how much care a person could show on their face when they weren’t his mother. He felt the weight of Dan’s fondness for him scrawled across the lines of Dan’s face, and Phil wanted to write about it, to capture that moment in words that only existed in his mind then. He wanted to turn Dan in the a story, one that was so near and dear to his heart that he would only take it off the shelf when he wanted to bask in comfort and love, a warm blanket and drink on a cold rainy day.

Maybe the desire was strange, but Phil felt it nevertheless.

“You don’t have to talk,” Dan said, bringing Phil back to the moment. “But, look. I went through a long, long period of time where I had no fucking idea what the fuck I was doing. I’m still not out of that, tbh.”

Phil’s lips quirked at the vocalized acronym.

“Shut up,” Dan said, his own little smile appearing in response to Phil’s. “Look, I get that you talk to your parents, but they’re your parents. They’re going to love you no matter what. I’m here as someone you still don’t know very well but who hasn’t been chased off by you. I’m here, Phil. I’m here to listen.”

“You have your own problems, though,” Phil said.

Dan shrugged, pulling out the cupcake tray Phil’s mother had given him at the start of term. “So do you, and you listen to me.”

“But I’m fine,” Phil protested.

Dan gave him a look that clearly said, _Are you kidding me?_

Phil shrugged, looking away. “I just feel so stupid talking about it.”

“And yet you do talk.”

“It’s how I cope,” Phil said, and his voice cracked. He hated how _weak_ he sounded. “I just talk. Like I’m trying to talk through everything.”

“Does it work?”

Phil shrugged again. “I guess. Sometimes, maybe.”

“Well, then, let’s hear it,” Dan said, wandering over to the table with his ingredients. “And put your phone where I can see it.”

Phil did, and as he watched Dan read over the instructions, he found himself talking, because Dan wasn’t looking at him, and he wasn’t giving Phil his full attention, and Phil just felt better about talking to the side of Dan’s head when he knew Dan could tune him out if he wanted to.

“I feel like I should be stronger,” Phil admitted to Dan. “I feel fragile. It’s … It’s not how I want to be, but I don’t know how to change. I mean, my problems are so inconsequential in the face of things like yours and Ellery’s…”

“Phil,” Dan said as he began measuring and pouring sugar into a bowl. “Don’t … Don’t make that comparison.”

“But how can I not?” Phil exploded. “I get this is first world problems and stuff, but I also know that both of you are struggling more than I am. You get to deal with … with all your problems and Ellery gets to deal with the fact that he’s working on top of school on top of family troubles and here I am with a supportive, loving family who can afford to pay for my schooling and I’m just whining about how my thoughts are too loud and I—” Phil cut himself off with a gasp, stopping the flow of words which had grown faster and faster, until they were like a spaghetti he was expelling.

Dan opened his mouth to say something, but Phil continued before Dan could get a word out, slower this time. “And I just feel like such a piece of crap, you know? Because what about my life _isn’t_ great? I don’t have mental disorders, I don’t have physical disorders, I’ve got … I’ve got support and I’ve got people in my corner and why can’t I be happy?” Phil didn’t look at Dan. He refused to look at Dan. “Why won’t my brain cooperate with me? Why am I … Why is it just…”

He didn’t know how to finish that sentence.

“Phil,” Dan said calmly. “It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not,” Phil said. “I just need to grow up.”

Dan set aside the bowl and moved towards Phil, gently lifting Phil’s chin until their eyes met. “Phil, one of your oldest friends has basically left you high and dry with, like, no explanation. Another person you thought you could trust betrayed you and acted like you were the one wronging her. Of course you’re feeling shitty. It’s nothing against you. But you still have people who love and support you and who are here for you. And maybe you’ve got more friends than you think.”

“Yes, but.” Phil leaned away from Dan’s grasp and ran a hand through his hair. “What if the only reason people like me is because they feel sorry for me? Or because they want to exploit me? Or because they see someone they can care for like a _child?_ Or because they want someone who just sucks at life more than they do so they feel better about themselves?”

“That is not why people hang out with you,” Dan said in an even, yet hard, tone.

“Well how should I know?” Phil asked, voice raised a bit higher than normal. He wasn't shouting, but he felt a bit like screaming. “People have done all those things before! Everyone leaves me, Dan! I've never gotten close to anybody! There are a few people who call me their friend, but I haven't met anyone I've really connected with enough to want to be around for long amounts of time!”

Except this wasn't true, Phil realized as he watched Dan’s face fall, the boy step back, hunching in on himself.

_Thoughtless, stupid..._

“I didn't mean it like that,” Phil said belatedly. “Not you.”

Dan looked at him, but Phil could see the hurt in his eyes.

This was why he never shared his real thoughts with anyone. He hinted, he joked, but he never admitted; the truth hurt too many people.

“I just mean,” Phil said, “that I don't know why you hang out with me. And I don't know why anyone would. I'm a mess of insecurity, and it's like I need constant reassurance all the time, Dan. All the time.”

“Because people keep leaving you,” Dan said. “Or they have other friends they'd rather hang out with. Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“I must seem like such a child, complaining about this,” Phil muttered, bitterness weighing heavy and thick on the back of his tongue.

Dan's hand found his and squeezed it. “I worry about the same things.”

Phil rolled his head to the side and saw Dan looking at him, kind and caring.

“Thank you for being my friend,” Phil whispered. “These last few weeks would have really sucked without you, you know?”

Dan’s hand found his. “Same … _tbh.”_

Phil snorted.

They were silent as they helped each other make the cupcake batter, Dan now letting Phil help. Though Dan laughed when Phil managed to spill some of the ingredients onto himself, they both fell into an easy sort of silence Phil have never thought possible.

Phil always tried to fill _up_ the silence, for he had never felt so content with the quiet as to share it with another person. Dan, though, Dan was different. Dan felt like an unobtrusive presence, and as Phil let his mind wander as they poured the goop into the tray, Phil almost felt like he was alone.

It was a good feeling. One he had never had before in his life with another person, not even with his family.

As he looked at Dan, words, unbidden, rose to the forefront of his mind.

_I don't know where we're going but do you have room for one more troubled soul? I don't know where I'm going, but I don't think I'm coming home._

His lips quirked.

“Amusing thought alert,” Dan said.

“Just Fall Out Boy,” Phil said.

Dan laughed. “Which one?”

Though embarrassed, Phil told him.

“Did you, like, find them with _My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark?”_ Dan snickered. 

Phil sniffed. “I'll have you know I found them when I was eleven and stumbled across _Thnks Fr Th Mmrs.”_

“Nice,” Dan laughed.

Phil rolled his eyes. “Glad to have your approval.”

_“And I said, I'll check in tomorrow if I don't wake up dead,”_ Dan mumbled under his breath. _“This is the road to ruin and we're starting at the end.”_

_“Say yeah,”_ Phil sang, Dan chiming in on the second ‘Yeah!’ _“Let's be alone together! We can stay young forever! Yeah! Screaming from the top of your lungs, lungs, lungs…”_

Dan broke off, giggling. “We're such dorks.”

Phil found himself giggling, too. There was a warmth in his rib cage. “At least we have fun.”

Dan hopped off his chair and walked over to Phil, leaning his head down on Phil’s shoulder. Phil, surprised, raised a hand to run it through Dan’s hair. Phil loved being tactile, but he had never really been around tactile people. His family hugged each other, but that was about it, and none of his friends particularly wanted to flop on Phil.

But this? This was nice. This was easy and exactly what Phil wanted and he just … He felt so, so happy to know Dan.

Phil felt more grounded, now that he had gotten most of his thoughts out. He felt calmer, his mind quieter, and he was so intensely grateful for Dan.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“Anytime,” Dan replied, equally soft.

They both jumped apart as the timer chimed, telling them to rescue their cupcakes.

“Well,” Dan said as he observed the tray. “This was a flop.”

It was. Some of the cupcakes were gloopy, the others had popped.

“How the fuck did this happen?” Dan demanded.

“I have no clue,” Phil said.

Dan picked at a piece and stuck it in his mouth. “This tastes _disgusting.”_

“Well,” Phil said as he looked at Dan’s ruined creations. “At least we still have cookies.”

Which was how they found themselves once more sequestered under Phil’s bed, a bag of crumbled cookies between them, both on their backs this time and looking up at the underside of Phil’s bed. It wasn’t a spectacular sight by any means.

“Hey, Phil?” Dan asked as they settled down again on Phil's carpet, cookies clutched in their hands, dripping crumbs.

“Yeah?”

Dan gnawed his lip for a moment. “You … You aren't the only one who struggles to befriend people.”

Phil's breath puffed out. The warmth feeling in his chest diminished. “Yeah, I know.”

“I don't think even my girlfriend really liked me, for those last few months we were together,” Dan whispered. “I don't think … I think you’re the first person I've met that actually likes me for me.”

Phil met Dan's eyes. “What's not to like?”

Dan's lips quirked. “I dunno, I guess. I just. It's easier, dealing with other people's problems sometimes, you know? It's nice focusing on you sometimes instead of me, and…” Dan hesitated. “This might sound harsh. But, you're going through a lot of similar thought processes, and it's … helping you through them helps me, you know? Because you're actually willing to talk about them where I … can't,   
really. So, it helps. You help me.”

“Thank _God,”_ Phil said, so emphatically that Dan smiled. Phil counted that as a win. “I was really worried I was just rehashing the same stupid complaints over and over again.”

Dan met his eyes. “You can't solve your emotions in one conversation.”

“Well, I know _I_ can't,” Phil said. “Maybe some people can.”

Dan's eyes fell closed. “I'm really happy I'm here. I thought I was going to go through college alone.”

Phil reached out and grabbed Dan's hand. “You're not alone, Dan.”

Dan, eyes still closed, smiled. It was a small smile, but a real one. A tear trickled out from under his lid and rolled down his temple into his hair. Just the body at work. “You have no fucking idea how glad I am of that.”

Phil squeezed Dan's hand, and they lay there in silence until they both remembered the cookies in their hands.

Even though he knew he wasn’t done overthinking and over-talking—Dan could only help so much—he felt better.

“I’m really glad I met you,” he said.

Dan’s mouth was full of cookie mush, but the look on his face said, _me, too._

Phil smiled.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deep (Not Necessary Good) Thoughts Ahead, More So Than Normal.

Phil had run out of food and, rather than going out and buying more food, he simply went to the university center and bought himself a small lunch, commandeering a corner of chairs as he ate with one hand and held a book in the other, reading intently.

When he had almost finished his food, he heard footsteps approaching his corner. He looked up to see Dan, his face grim.

Phil immediately set his book aside.

“I want to change my degree or dropout and I don’t know which,” Dan said without preamble.

Phil blinked at him. “Okay.”

Dan stared at him. “‘Okay?’ That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“Well, yeah,” Phil said. “You’re completely miserable at Law. I’m surprised you waited this long.”

“Oh.” Dan looked down. “I just wanted to try. I mean, maybe it was just ‘cause this was my first year, you know? And I … I wanted to see if I could love Law as much as you love writing.”

“I don’t think that was ever going to happen,” Phil said gently, patting the chair next to him. Dan sank gratefully down and sighed, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Phil wrapped an arm slowly around Dan’s shoulders as soon as Dan settled down, and Dan sank into Phil’s side, leaning over the empty space between their chairs. Phil couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“Yeah, guess so.” Dan’s voice was now muffled by the fabric of Phil’s hoodie.

Phil began rubbing his hand up and down Dan’s arm. “What do you want to do more right now? Change or dropout?”

“I want to see if I can change,” Dan said, pulling his head back up. Phil immediately missed the warmth of Dan’s breath. “I mean, I really like uni, just not Law, you know?”

“Okay,” Phil said. “Let’s find someone to talk to tomorrow. Want to go to my room and just watch something and eat out tonight?”

“Fuck yeah,” Dan said, looking relieved that Phil wasn’t making a big deal out of his announcement. “I think my parents are going to flip.”

Phil breathed out a laugh as he stood up, tucking his book in his hoodie pocket. “I’m sure they’ll handle it just fine. What do you want to watch?”

“ _Poirot,_ ” Dan said promptly.

Phil rolled his eyes. “Ha, ha. No, seriously, what do you want to watch?”

“I just told you. Then we can watch something else, but _Poirot_ first.”

Phil looked over and saw that Dan was dead serious. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Dan said. “Fuck off, I like it well enough after I’ve gotten used to it.”

Phil blinked. “Um. Okay.”

“Unless you don’t want to,” Dan added, frowning in worry.

Phil let out a surprised huff. “No, no, it’s just … I mean, I know it’s weird. C’mon.”

“Hey,” Dan said, catching at Phil’s sleeve. “It’s the good kind of weird. Like you.”

Phil made a goofy face, trying to look indignant and failing miserably. “Thanks.”

Dan laughed, rolling his eyes. “Come on, you spork. Let’s go watch some justice be done.”

***

Phil never really fit in anywhere. He wasn’t enough of anything to fit into anything. He wasn’t enough of a gamer to belong there, not into fandoms enough to belong there, not into socializing to belong to any of the clubs or cliques, and he wasn’t social enough online to befriend anyone. Phil wasn’t extreme enough for people to want to be around. He wasn’t _enough._

But, after his talk with Dan, after they hung out over the weekend and Dan treated him no differently, his mind quieted a bit, and Phil found himself focusing on other things because it seemed that to _Dan_ Phil was enough. Around Dan, Phil didn’t feel the need to play up any aspect of himself

He picked away at a story on Sunday, shaping plotlines and characters and breathing life into both as the words poured from his fingertips. He worked on some of the papers he had whose due dates were coming up, but it was a half-hearted attempt at best, and he found himself writing more of his fiction than his essays.

Around two, Phil ate a small lunch and set off on a walk to stretch his legs. He felt more at peace with his thoughts, so he didn’t bring his iPod, and instead enjoyed the quiet around him as he walked along the well-trod path in the little copse of wood.

In fact, Phil felt great, right up until after dinner later that night when he had set his writing aside and was instead scrolling through Tumblr on his laptop.

“Hey.”

Phil looked up, shocked to see Marcus standing in his doorway.

“Hey,” Phil said, floundering for something to say. His contented mood immediately vanished.

When had he begun dreading the next time he saw Marcus’s face?

“Uh, I wanted to know how you’ve been.” Marcus stepped further into the room, looking at Phil much like he always had—mild interest, mild compassion, and a sort of distance Phil could never put a name to.

“Oh, um, I’ve been okay,” Phil said. “Not—not great, but okay.”

“What’s wrong?” Marcus looked concerned, and Phil couldn’t stop the bitter rise of emotions.

 _What’s wrong?_ He wanted to scream. _What’s wrong is that you seemed to have forgotten I exist 95% of the time!_

“I, um. A lot. You haven’t been around,” was what Phil settled on.

“Right, sorry.” Marcus _did_ look sorry, and Phil immediately wanted to retract his words, because Marcus didn’t need Phil throwing a little hissy fit at him just because Phil didn’t think he was getting enough attention. They were both grown up now, and Phil needed to act like it.

“It’s fine,” he said, trying to appear as sincere as possible. “How have you been? Everything with Erika going well?”

“So far, yeah,” Marcus said, and there was something softer in his face now, something happier.

“Good.” Phil nodded. Then nodded again. He didn’t know what to say to Marcus. He didn’t know how to act, how to make him stay.

So he didn’t.

Instead, he and Marcus made painfully awkward small talk for a few minutes before Marcus mentioned he was going to leave. Only seven minutes had passed, which simultaneously didn’t seem like enough time and too long all at once.

“We need to hang out soon,” Marcus said as he began to back out of Phil’s room. “Let me know!”

“You let me know,” Phil said as his eyes tracked Marcus’s movements. “You’re the busy one.”

Marcus winced. “Not really. Not with anything important.”

Phil bit back all the unkind words he wanted to spit out, smiled like an apology, and watched as Marcus shut the door once more, leaving Phil in his room alone.

 _Just talked to Marcus,_ Phil texted to Dan.

_**Dan 7:59 PM**  
oh? how’d that go?_

Phil gnawed at his lip.

_**Phil 8:00 PM**  
Don’t know. I’m hoping things will change, but I suspect nothing will change at all._

_**Dan 8:00 PM**  
that’s dark._

_**Phil 8:00 PM**  
It’s what’s happened before_

_**Dan 8:01 PM**  
:(_

_**Phil 8:02 PM**  
Sorry I didn’t mean to be so dark._

_**Dan 8:02 PM**  
dude, it’s fine. i get it, really. it’s okay to be dark sometimes._

_Not if you’re named Phil,_ Phil thought bitterly.

_**Phil 8:03 PM**  
Going to do Nothing, talk tomorrow?_

_**Dan 8:03 PM**  
count on it!_

Phil smiled as he set his phone down and returned to his computer, trying to ignore his door which was still filled with Marcus’s presence.

***

“You sure you’re okay?” Dan asked Phil as the professor droned on up front.

“I’m fine.” Phil wrote down everything on the slide. “Just tired.”

“Right.” Dan didn’t sound convinced.

Phil warded off concerned questioning from Dan for the rest of the day, and by Thursday they had both mostly forgotten about it. Mostly, this was due to the sheer onslaught of homework they both had to deal with.

They had spent most of the time texting one another, and hadn’t really hung out outside of the one class they shared together. This was mostly due to Phil not wanting to leave his room and Dan needing to be in the library.

_-Wednesday-_

_**Dan 3:31 PM**  
i hate law_

_**Phil 3:31 PM**  
We knew this_

_**Dan 3:31 PM**  
i really, really hate law_

_**Phil 3:32 PM**  
:(_

_**Dan 3:32 PM**  
i talked to my advisor who said they’d make an appointment for me to argue my case for changing degrees in a few weeks. i’ll probably have to finish this semester tho_

_**Phil 3:33 PM**  
You can do it! \O/_

_**Dan 3:33 PM**  
thanks :p_

When Thursday dawned, Phil remembered that tomorrow he was supposed to drive Marcus and Erika down for the concert.

He dreaded the thought, because if hanging around Marcus for ten minutes was awkward, he didn’t want to know how an entire car ride would be like, especially with Erika, who hardly ever spoke to Phil and who Phil thought might actually dislike him.

He wasn’t sure, though. Maybe she liked him. He was just never around her enough to know.

As soon as Phil’s last class was over, he called him mum.

“Child!” she greeted him.

Phil smiled even though his mum wouldn’t be able to see. “Hey! You got a moment?”

“I do.”

Phil bit his lip before, haltingly, he told his mum what all had happened Sunday night between him and Marcus and how Phil was feeling about it, especially over the last week where he saw Marcus maybe once for a few seconds.

“Is this just something that happens?” Phil asked her. “Do people get a girlfriend or a boyfriend and then just … forget about their other friends?”

“No,” his mum said. “Maybe just in extreme cases, which this sounds like.”

Phil ran a hand through his hair before carefully fixing it back into place. “Does he realize what he’s doing, do you think?”

“I couldn’t say,” she said. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. I think it’s more likely he’s just thinking about sex.”

Phil winced. “Or just that, you know, new relationship stuff is happening.”

“Or that,” she agreed in a tone that told Phil she, at least, didn’t think it likely. “How has it been going?”

“Okay,” Phil said. “It all left a bitter taste in my mouth, but Dan did his best to cheer me up.”

“I’ve been hearing more about this Dan person,” his mum said.

“He’s becoming a good friend of mine,” Phil said. “I really like him. Not that way, but.”

“I knew what you meant,” she said, and Phil could almost see the smile on her face. “Well, you tell him I said hi.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Phil said. “Are you still on your knitting streak?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I was wondering if you could knit something for Ellery,” Phil said. “It’s getting towards December and it’s getting colder and Ellery’s money is tight at the moment.”

“I can do that,” his mum said. “I’ll get started on it soon. Thank you so much for telling me, Phil. Does Ellery need anything else?”

“I can ask, but I think he’s got hats and gloves covered.”

“Good, good.”

“How has your day been?”

“It’s been really good. I went to get some coffee with my friend Dora and we spent a few hours chatting about absolutely nothing. It was quite lovely.”

Phil smiled. “It sounds like it. Would you tell Dora I said hello next time you see her?”

“I will.”

“Thanks. Well,” Phil said. “I’m, uh, I’m going to go. Get some homework done.”

“Of course. Will we still be seeing you this weekend?”

“I think so,” Phil said. “I’ll check with Marcus to see if they still need a ride, but either way, I’m coming down. I need a break away from school.”

“Well, we look forward to seeing you.”

Phil and his mum wrapped up their conversation, and Phil ended the call a few minutes later. He slipped his phone into his pocket, left it there for a moment, then pulled it out again.

He had deleted his conversations with Marcus a few weeks ago, unable to look at them without feeling miserable. So, he made a new conversation and, biting his lip, typed out a message for Marcus.

_**Phil 1:03 PM**  
Am I still driving you to the concert?_

He wasn't expecting a response, but Marcus actually replied promptly.

_**Marcus 1:04 PM**  
No, Erika decided we'd go in her car._

A dulled sort of resigned anger thumped at Phil’s chest, and Phil forced himself to take a deep breath, releasing it slowly. _You didn't think to_ tell _me this?_

 _Convince me not to say something salty to Marcus,_ he texted to Dan before switching back to Marcus’s conversation and sending a simple _K_ to Marcus.

Again, Marcus replied almost immediately.

_**Marcus 1:04 AM**  
U still going?_

Phil didn't want to reply, but he also didn't want to leave Marcus hanging, so he sent off a simple, _Yes._

Then he deleted the whole conversation.

_**Dan 1:04 PM**  
let him know what you really think_

_**Phil 1:05 PM**  
That’s literally what I don’t want to do_

_**Dan 1:05 PM**  
no, it’s what you want to do, but aren’t bc you’re a nice person :p_

_**Phil 1:05 PM**  
*eyeroll*_

The two of them texted back and forth a bit more as Phil finally moved away from his spot in the entryway of the English department building and moved instead towards the university center and lunch. Phil had almost put Marcus out of his mind as he entered the building when Marcus sent him another text:

_**Marcus 1:14 AM**  
It's a good thing bc were leaving today so we won't keel you from class or anything._

Phil frowned, the hurt once more surging in up his esophagus, and he deleted it without replying.

 _I keep melting down on you, sorry,_ he sent to Dan. _I really appreciate you putting up with my whining_

_**Dan 1:18 PM**  
this isn't me “putting up” with anything. you’re my friend and i’m here for you. if anything annoys me, it’s how your friends are treating you._

Phil bit his lip, but before he could formulate a response, Dan sent:

_**Dan 1:18 PM**  
sorry, that was harsh. you just deserve to be treated better imho_

_**Phil 1:18 PM**  
:1_

Phil didn’t add the fact that things were fine and that Marcus was totally within his right to forget to tell him things like this. People forget things, it happens. Marcus wasn’t trying to hurt him and it was really no big deal.

“I’m fine,” Phil muttered before getting lunch. He felt miserable, and wolfed down his food before hurrying back to his room, dropping all his stuff on the floor, and faceplanting on to his bed. His voice was muffled, his breath hot as he mumbled again, “I’m fine.”

***

Sometimes, Phil just wanted to get mad.

He wanted to storm up to Marcus and yell. He wanted to scream, to rant, to rave.

Phil lay on his bed late Thursday night after work and after dinner. His laptop lay a little way away on his comforter, but Phil didn’t touch it as his thoughts consumed him, angry and bitter and achingly sad.

If Marcus was Phil’s best friend, then where the hell had he been the last few months? If Marcus was Phil’s best friend, then why was he never there for Phil? Phil gave and he gave and he gave. He let Marcus have his old bike, his old phone. He gave Marcus his time, his car, access to his life and his home, and all Phil wanted was Marcus’s friendship. All he wanted was to be able to talk to Marcus and be heard, to listen to Marcus speak and connect.

How could Marcus not _see?_ Phil had even told him what was happening! Multiple times! And the thing was … Phil just wasn’t enough. He wasn’t cool enough or nice enough or _something_ enough for Marcus to want to be around.

Phil wanted to be around Marcus. He wanted to be there for Marcus. He just wanted to be the best friend he possibly could for Marcus.

But Marcus wasn't there for Phil. For the last few months, he'd been absent. Phil wanted to let these thoughts pour out of his mouth, to actually be _heard_ and _understood,_ specifically by Marcus since Dan, nice as he is, wasn’t the one who needed to hear the words. But he didn't let the words leave his mouth. He trapped them against his gums and let them fester there.

Maybe it wasn't healthy, but Phil couldn't imagine actually _saying_ any of the unkind thoughts swimming around in his head.

Marcus didn't deserve to hear Phil's pathetic loneliness laid out bare.

He didn’t deserve to hear all the ways Phil was _weak._

Dan was different. Dan hadn’t known Phil for seven years. Phil hadn’t dedicated seven years of his life to being Dan’s friend. Phil knew that Dan would eventually find some friends he liked more than Phil and move on.

That’s what everyone did. Why would Dan be any different?

So, it didn’t matter what Phil told Dan, because eventually Dan would move on and forget Phil and all Phil’s stupid insecurities or maybe remember them and tell his wife or husband in a few years time about this one pitiful guy his knew in uni who couldn’t act his age and then maybe Dan and his spouse would laugh and _then_ forget.

Phil hoped this wouldn’t be. He hoped Dan would stay his friend. But everyone left Phil eventually. Everyone.

But Marcus … Marcus wasn’t Dan. Marcus was one of the few people Phil actually liked enough to want to hang out with for years and years and years. Marcus was someone Phil had loved and helped and been around and now that he was gone…

Phil wanted to _scream._

But he didn’t. He just lay on his bed as his thoughts went around and around and he kept himself silent.

Phil was useless. Phil was pathetic. People _should_ leave him behind. It’d make their lives better. It would improve their lives so much, not having to deal with Phil’s stupid, unending crap.

He just thought Marcus was different.

 _Can’t trust anyone,_ a little voice in the back of his mind whispered gleefully. _They’re all just waiting for you to fuck up so they can leave you. They’re just waiting until you give them exactly what they want and then suck you dry and leave you. They’re just all going to leave you._

Phil tried to shove that thought aside, but it wouldn’t leave him alone. It kept circling back, over and over again, taunting him.

_You’re worthless, and everyone knows it. You’re just a child to them. They’re placating you until you start to feel safe and loved and then they leave you. You’re not likeable enough to be around._

Phil felt tears pricking his eyeballs.

_‘What a pathetic man-child,’ they must say behind your back. I bet they talk about you, laugh at you. I bet they think you’re just so stupid. I bet they think they’re better than you. I bet they point you out and say, ‘We might not have our life in order, but we’re better than he is.’ I bet..._

Phil, vision impaired by the tears welling up he refused to let fall, grabbed his laptop and began typing as fast as he could.

***

“Excited to go home?” Dan asked as he walked with Phil towards the uni center. It was after Phil’s last class on Friday, and Phil felt jittery after last night and had texted Dan during class, asking him if he wanted to eat together. Dan had immediately accepted. Phil tried not to let the happy little bubble at that grow out of proportion. 

“Yes,” Phil said.

“But…?”

Phil looked over at Dan, who had raised an eyebrow.

“But nothing?”

Dan huffed out a laugh. “I may be a new friend, Phil, but I know you well enough to know that tone of voice.”

Phil shrugged. “Nothing too much.”

“Hey,” Dan said, touching the back of Phil’s hand with his fingertips. “I know you think you complain a lot, but I’m here to listen.”

“It’s…” _Nothing much, really,_ Phil was going to say, but his response died on his tongue as he looked at Dan’s honest expression.

“How about you tell my over lunch,” Dan suggested as they neared the uni center.

“Sure,” Phil said, feeling relieved, nervous, and stupid. Already, he was trying to battle back the flush threatening to bruise across his skin.

They were quiet as they ordered their meals and retreated back to the corner of chairs that was farther away from the pick-up counter than people usually wanted to walk.

“Okay,” Dan said, sitting down. “What’s up?”

Phil fidgeted and said nothing.

Dan opened his mouth, closed it again, and then leaned across the crack between their chairs until their shoulders and arms were touching and Dan’s hair was tickling Phil’s cheek.

Phil took comfort in the touch, breathed, cursed himself, and hated his stupid, stupid mind.

Dan left to pick up their orders after a few minutes and returned with them, sitting down and placing their food on the table between them. Dan started eating, but Phil simply picked at his fries, trying to find the words.

“I feel like such a burden on my parents,” Phil said after a few moments. His shoulders were tense as he kept his eyes on his hands.

“They sound like lovely people,” Dan said. “From the way you talk about them, I know they love you very much. They don’t see you as a burden.”

Phil tamped down on a wince. “It’s not even just the … the money part of it. God, they must be so tired of listening to me whine and complain about my life. You, too, but.”

He could feel Dan looking at him, waiting for him to continue.

“I just … I just feel like I bore them? Or I talk about things that are stupid, or I overshare about my life and they just hear the same things over and over and over again and I just… I just wish I was the sort of person who didn’t feel the need to fill up silence and could keep things to myself, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“You do, though,” Phil said, glancing up for a second and looking back down before he could see Dan’s expression. “You can keep yourself to yourself and I’m just … I’m giving pieces of myself away and I don’t know how to stop.”

“I wish I could be more open,” Dan said. “Maybe then…”

The end of the sentence was left unsaid, but Phil reached out and gripped Dan’s hand, holding on tight. He didn’t need to know to hear the pain behind those words.

“I wish I could talk more, be more open,” Dan continued. “But I can’t. I don’t know why. But I like hearing you speak, Phil.”

“I just repeat myself.”

“With a new perspective each time,” Dan said gently.

“I talk about things people aren’t interested in.”

“Don’t be embarrassed by what you like or think.”

Phil finally looked over at Dan. “That’s hard, though.” He heard his voice crack and cleared it hastily. “Dan, I’m interested in stuff you and my parents and—and Marcus _aren’t_ interested in and I don’t want to bore you guys…”

“Phil, you’re passionate. I don’t—”

“It’s not about that,” Phil said. “I like what I like, if that makes sense. I mean, when I’m alone, I’m good, because no one is around to judge me or anything and I can just be … me. B-But what if what I’m into is … is weird, or something people wouldn’t think that I like and then I have to deal with the weight of their judgements…”

“No one is judging you.”

“I think I sometimes use them to reflect judgements on myself.” Phil shook his head in frustration. “I’m just … I feel so caged, Dan, by what other people think of me, o-or what I think other people think of me, and I don’t know how I got here. I used to be … better, when I was younger. I used to be happy with me and now every time I’m around people like my parents and my friends or my classmates, I’m never actually comfortable, you know? I’m never … I never feel like myself.”

Dan reached out and squeezed Phil hand. “I like the you I get to hang out with.”

“Thanks.” Phil let out a breath.

“And you can be more honest with me,” Dan continued. “I’ll be more honest about me, too. I’ll try, you’ll try, we’ll meet in the middle. How’s that sound.”

“Good.” Phil bit his lip. “I’ll probably bore you.”

“You couldn’t.”

“How would you know?”

“You haven’t so far.” The sincerity in Dan’s tone made Phil look up, and they stared at each other for a long moment.

“Have you ever talked to anyone?” Dan asked once he looked back down at his food.

“How d’you mean?”

“Like a therapist.”

“What's the point?” Phil shook his head. “I'm too ‘okay’ to have anything wrong with me. I'd just be wasting someone's time when other people actually need help.”

“Talking things out helps.”

“I talk to you,” Phil pointed out. “I talk to my parents. I talk … I used to talk with Marcus. I probably bore the crap out of you all with my whining, but I talk plenty.”

“Okay, first off, you don't whine,” Dan said.

“Yes I do.”

“Phil—”

“Dan,” Phil cut in. “I do. Moving on.”

Dan's face said _we're to talk about this later._ Phil put on his best _everything's fine_ face.

“Secondly, I meant professional help,” Dan said. “Not just people who love you.”

“I don't need to waste people's time,” Phil repeated. “I'm too ‘okay’ to need that.”

“But you aren't _good,_ ” Dan said.

Phil felt tired. So, so tired. “Who is, these days?”

“You’re allowed to be sad, you know,” Dan said.

Phil let out a shaky breath. “Other people have it worse than me. I should be thankful for what I have and not … not focus on the bad.”

“Fuck that,” Dan said. “You’re allowed to be sad, Phil. You’re lonely, you’re hurt, you’re disappointed. If you bottle it up, you’ll only implode inwards.”

Phil tried to believe Dan, he really did—he just couldn’t quite manage it. He didn’t deserve to feel down, because compared to other people’s lives, his was great. What was that his old school mate used to say? “First World Problems?” Phil had First World problems, and he didn’t have a single thing to complain about.

“Phil,” Dan said, studying him closely. “Phil, you can be sad.”

Phil shook his head. “I’ll be fine. I will be. I’ll just…”

Dan reached across the table and gripped Phil’s wrist. “Phil, you are allowed to feel your emotions. Stop comparing yourself to other people and just let yourself feel.”

“I don’t—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” Dan said, looking Phil in the eye. He withdrew his hand, and Phil missed the warmth. “You can feel whatever the fuck you feel and that’s fine. That’s good. Don’t let you get out of touch with your own emotions.”

“I just don’t want to always be talking about me and how I feel,” Phil said. “I-I feel like such a burden. Like … I don’t really know why anyone likes me. I feel like all I do it make everything about me and whine about how I feel so confused all the time and I…”

Dan slid over the gap between their chairs as Phil’s head slid down between his arms so they looked like a ‘V’ and framed his face. He shook with sobs he refused to let escape. His head became light from his held breath, and when he did breathe, it was in short gasps as he tried to stop any noise from escaping. Dan said nothing; he just rubbed Phil’s back in a soothing manner and waited for Phil to regain control.

When Phil came up for air, it was choking down air. Red eyed, hair wild, Phil knew he must look a sight and was intensely grateful that no one but Dan was close enough to see him.

“I just wish I could be different,” Phil said. “I wish I talked less and focused less on me and allowed myself to be … I don’t even know. Less insecure, less of an emotional mess, less just … this.” He waved vaguely at himself. “I just wish I was a better version of me.”

“You can be,” Dan said. “If you work on it. But Phil—I like you how you are. I really do.”

“I don’t know why. And please—don’t,” he added to Dan’s opening mouth. “I don’t need you to sing praises or anything. I’m not searching for a compliment. I’m just. I don’t get it. I don’t understand why. I don’t…”

“Phil,” Dan said. “I like you, warts and all. Right now, you’re lonely and miserable, and it’s okay to be a mess. You can piece yourself back together and you can be better. You can be.”

“I just don’t know if I can,” Phil said.

Dan looked him dead in the eye and asked, “Do you want to be?”

Phil, unable to look away, mesmerized by the honeyed brown glint in his friend’s iris, replied, softly, sincerely, _“Yes.”_

***

They didn’t stay long, after Phil’s breakdown. Instead, they finished their food and walked back to his flat. Dan followed Phil without prompting, and Phil was intensely grateful when Dan settled down with him on the bed, lying side-by-side on the covers and looking up at the ceiling.

Phil felt, frankly, embarrassed. He was older than Dan—he should have his life more figured out. The fact that he bared himself so willingly to another human being like that who _wasn't_ his parents (while many of his peers may be horrified by talking so frankly to their parents, Phil just felt intensely relieved to talk to two people who loved him and understood him better than he did himself, in some ways) scared Phil, because here was another piece of himself he'd never be able to take back. Why, he thought, bitterness rising up in his throat, couldn't he just shut the _fuck_ up?

“Stop,” Dan murmured to his left. “You’re thinking too much. Stop.”

“What if I give too many pieces of myself away, and then find there's nothing left?”

Dan took his hand. “Phil, you control yourself.”

“I don't right now. _Look_ at me, Dan. Look at how’ve I’ve been acting. I can’t...”

“Change it,” Dan said. “Take note of what you want to change and tackle each problem.”

 _But what if it's all contradictory?_ Phil wondered. _What if I like rambling but I don’t? What if I like having friends, but I never want to be around them?_

He didn't tell Dan any of these thoughts. There were somethings he had to work out alone. Dan, however, didn’t say anything. He just took Phil’s hand and squeezed, and that was better than any placations of defenses Phil could have hoped for, and he took a deep breath, letting it out, and let himself be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twenty chapters??? Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kinda in a hurry, so I didn't read over this very closely, so if you spot any mistakes, please let me know!

Phil packed up and left an hour after he said goodbye to Dan, and by dinnertime he was standing in front of his house.

Phil’s childhood home was familiar and so, so welcome. Though it wasn’t as nice as his parent’s retirement house and it wasn’t as modern and minimalistic as his college flat, it was better than either. Phil felt the weight of his past and his idyllic childhood settle across his shoulders, and though it pressed down, it was a good weight, one that Phil welcomed.

The door opened. “Child!”

“Mum!” Phil called back, closing his car door and hurrying up the path to accept her hug, which enveloped him. Even though he was taller than her by almost a foot, he felt like an actual child again when he as tucked up in the crook of her neck.

“Come in, come in,” she said as she gently but firmly detached herself from him.

“Is Martyn home?”

“He will be tomorrow,” she said, waving him in in front of her.

“How was the drive?” she asked as she closed the door.

“Just fine,” Phil said and would have added more if his dad hadn't entered the room and wrapped him up in a hug.

Phil smiled into his dad's shoulder as his dad said, “It's good to see you.”

“And you,” Phil said, stepping back as he and his dad broke apart.

“Well,” his mum said. “You're just in time for dinner.”

That night, Phil played board games with his parents and laughed and talked with them, and Phil hated how far away his uni was. He couldn’t imagine going farther away, or even leaving the country. He’d miss them too much.

As he lay in his bed later that night, long after his parents went to sleep, Phil kept his eyes closed even though he wasn’t remotely tired. He listened to the dark, to the familiar way the house shifted in the night. He listened to cars cars driving past every so often and the wind blow through the leaves in the tree outside his window. Phil listened to the sounds he knows better than any of the noise in the bigger city he now lives in.

His phone, on his nightstand, buzzed and interrupted his thoughts. Phil reached out without looking and grabbed it.

_**Dan 12:14 AM**  
did you get there safely_

_**Phil 12:14 AM**  
Yep_

_**Dan 12:14 AM**  
o.O you’re awake_

_**Phil 12:14 AM**  
lol it’s the weekend tho I am tired so I just might go to bed_

_**Dan 12:14 AM**  
works for me. just wanted to check in. how’s the folks?_

_**Phil 12:15 AM**  
They’re good. I really missed them._

_**Dan 12:15 AM**  
:D_

_**Phil 12:16 AM**  
:3_

_**Dan 12:16 AM**  
...omfg old man get up to date_

_**Phil 12:16 AM**  
:(((((_

_**Dan 12:16 AM**  
i will fucking block you fight me_

_**Phil 12:16 AM**  
*runs and hides*_

_**Dan 12:17 AM**  
yeah you better run binch_

_**Phil 12:17 AM**  
...binch?_

_**Dan 12:17 AM**  
yep_

_**Phil 12:17 AM**  
Does this mean you’re the Grinch?_

_**Dan 12:18 AM**  
hey rude_

__**Phil 12:18 AM**  
lol   
I’m gonna go sleep now 

_**Dan 12:19 AM**  
yeah ok_

_**Phil 12:19 AM**  
You’re going to stay up, aren’t you?_

_**Dan 12:19 AM**  
yep _

_**Phil 12:19 AM**  
Try to get SOME sleep pls_

_**Dan 12:20 AM**  
sleep is for the weak_

_**Phil 12:20 AM**  
Sure, whatever you tell yourself at night._

_**Dan 12:20 AM**  
wow, rude again, lester_

_**Phil 12:21 AM**  
Night, Dan_

_**Dan 12:21 AM**  
goodnight phil_

Phil, smiling, set his phone back down and looked up at his ceiling. When he was younger, he had put glow-in-the-dark stars and planets up there, and when he was a teenager and wanted to put posters all over his room, he had made sure that none of the stars were covered.

It was a little bit of light in the darkness surrounding him.

***

Phil kept things together through all of Saturday. He smiled at his parents when he woke up and ate breakfast with them, he greeted Martyn and Cornelia when they arrived mid-afternoon, and he engaged in the playful banter everyone participated in over dinner.

In fact, things were so well on Saturday that Phil thought nothing of his mum calling him up to her room to talk.

“Phil,” she said as she folded the laundry. Phil had offered to help, but she had turned him down with a gentle smile.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“I know we don’t talk everyday,” she said, “But we at least talk once a week.”

“Yes.” Phil felt confused. He knew how much he and his mum spoke to one another.

“Well,” she said. “I just … I just wanted to make sure you’re alright, Phil. You haven’t … sounded happy, these last few months.”

Phil blinked. Then blinked again a bit more rapidly. “Oh. Right."

His mum looked at him, steady and calm.

“It hasn't been easy this year,” Phil admitted. “But I'm making it through.”

When he looked over, his mother was looking back at him with a patient, loving expression.

“Phil,” she said. “How have you _really_ been?”

Phil’s face crumpled, and he ducked his face down into his hand, propped up on his knee. “I’ve been … I’ve been so _lonely,_ mum.”

He heard his mum round the bed and, slowly, she began to pet his hair.

Under the onslaught of being around his mum again, being home again, and being comforted, the words began pouring out of Phil’s mouth.

“Why does everybody keep leaving me?” Phil asked, voice cracking. “Am I … Am I just not worth knowing?”

"No, Phil,” his mother said.

“But why do people keep leaving me?” Phil demanded. “I'm either liked, but not worth hanging out because I'm so solitary and I don't do what anyone considers to be fun, or I'm boring enough people decide to leave me once they get tired of me, but I just…”

“Dan hadn't left you,” his mother said.

“Yet,” Phil retorted.

“Give him a chance,” his mother coaxed.

“Why?” asked Phil, feeling bitter. “All my years of evidence is against him. I can't even keep around people like Marcus.” Phil's throat felt tight, clogged.

He felt his mum press a kiss to the top of his head. “People come and go in our lives.”

“I know.” Phil felt so tired. He felt so, so tired.

Before they could say anything else, his dad called out from the kitchen: “Phil, want to go on a walk?”

Phil looked away from his mum, trying to sound as normal as possible as he responded, “Sure!”

“You’ll be fine, child,” his mum said.

“I guess,” Phil said, stand up, backing away from her, and heading back into the lounge, where his dad was slipping into a big coat, a hat and scarf already on his body.

Phil borrowed his brother’s coat and scavenged up a hat and some mittens, slipping them on and trying to make sure none of his flesh showed.

Together, they left the house, closing it tightly behind them. The bright yellow light of their porch light cast a circle across their lawn and pathway.

Phil felt the cold bite as his cheeks and nose, and he dug his hands deeper into the coat pockets, balling his fists.

“How have you been?” his dad asked as they set off down the street. This late at night, not a soul was in sight. The world was quiet, the stars stretching above them and the half moon rising slowly across the zenith.

“I’ve been miserable,” Phil said. It scared him, sometimes, how honest he was with his parents. But he needed someone who knew who he was, cracks and all, and he felt safe in the knowledge that his parents loved him. He could be honest with them. They had known him all his life and still loved him.

“I’ve heard,” his dad said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I know.” Phil let out a breath, hot across his chilly lips. “I’m just … I’m figuring it out. It’s just, Marcus came to my uni and suddenly I had a friend, you know? I mean, I had a few friends made from my first year, like PJ, but no one I had really bonded with, I guess? And then Marcus comes and he knows me and I know him and he’s amazing, dad, he’s just so amazing. I always feel so lucky he’s my friend.”

“But now Marcus isn’t hanging around you.”

“Right.” Phil felt his chest twist at the word. “And I’m … I was so focused on our relationship that I didn’t really work on any of the other friendships I’d made. Like, PJ and I didn’t really start talking again until a few months ago.”

“You were worried that might happen, when you heard Marcus was coming.”

Phil blinked, looked over at his dad. “I was?”

“Yeah,” his dad said. “You don’t remember?”

“No,” Phil said. “I don’t have an iron-clad memory.”

His dad chuckled. “No one does. But yes, you were worried about that happening. And, it appears, your fears were well-founded.”

Phil hates the way they’re talking about Marcus, as if he’s been bad to Phil. He hasn’t. Phil was so happy when he and Marcus got to hand out, when he got to see Marcus.

It felt like Phil had already given up on Marcus without a fight. It felt like Phil chose to let go, when there might not have been a reason to. Was Phil so focused on being rejected that he wasn’t giving Marcus a chance?

But he remembered what he’d told Dan a few weeks ago, about how Marcus had been growing more and more distant for months. About how Marcus would forget he and Phil had plans, about how he would back out in favor of hanging out with friends who would drink and party with him. He remembered how Marcus all but disappeared from Phil’s life without a text or any attempt to work around his sudden, close relationship with Erika. He remembered how resolute he’d been about how he wanted Marcus to want to hang out with him.

He just wanted Marcus to want to be around him, and so far, while Phil had reached out as often as he could without feeling like he was being overly needy, Marcus had done much, much less than he had.

“Am I giving up on Marcus too quickly?” he asked his dad out loud as they rounded the block.

“I don’t know,” his dad said. “Are you?”

“I don’t know,” said Phil. “That’s why I’m asking your opinion.”

His dad was silent for a moment. “I had hoped, as parents often do, that when you went to college you would find someone you could be with. Maybe not the normal way,” here, Phil could hear his dad slow down as he tried to figure out what to say, “but as a best friend. As a life companion. You haven’t, it seems, but your cousin Melinda didn’t either when she went off to college. There’s no rush.”

Phil shrugged. “I guess.”

There was a pause, and Phil knew his dad wanted to say something.

“What is it?” Phil eventually asked.

“Are you maybe in love with Marcus?” his dad asked.

“What? No!” Phil said. “I don’t … Dad, I don’t feel crushes, I don’t fall in love. Ever. Marcus is my best friend and I don’t want him to be anything else. I just … I just miss him.”

“I know,” his dad said.

“I just wish I could, sometimes, you know?” Phil kicked at the ground. “It’d make things easier if I could tell, if I could actually feel those things, you know? But at the same time, it sounds terrible.”

His dad laughed. “It isn’t that bad.”

“Sure,” Phil said. “It only distracts from your life and makes you feel weird things and makes you unable to … to concentrate…”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” his dad teased.

“No!” Phil said. “I’ve never felt any of that, and everyone just assumes you know what they’re talking about when they … when they want to ‘hit that’ or something! I don’t know about anything normal people feel!”

Phil could feel his face burning, but his dad’s voice was gentle and helped banish any embarrassment Phil felt.

“I think you, like I did when I was your age, have convinced yourself you're unlikable and unattractive.”

“I'm not attractive.” Phil kicked at the ground. “People have told me this. Kindly. And the only people who have been ‘interested’ in me have either just straight up asked me to be their boyfriend without going on a date first or asked me for casual sex.”

His dad laughed, and Phil couldn’t help but giggle alongside him.

“I must admit, those are pretty extreme cases,” his dad said. “But you aren’t bad looking.”

“I guess.” Phil shrugged. It hardly affected him one way or the other. “I don’t think I’d want to be around people who are after me for my looks. Maybe I’m just weird, but I’d like someone who just likes me, you know?”

His dad slowed his steps, and Phil slowed down with him. They were silent for a moment before his dad murmured, “You are wonderfully weird, and I’m so proud of you no matter what.”

Phil ducked his head, bobbing it slightly so that his chin hit his chest. “Thanks.”

His dad wrapped an arm around Phil’s shoulders, giving him a quick squeeze. “You just be you, Phil. I’m so sorry you’re going through this, but just make sure you’re not so hung up on Marcus that you forget about yourself.”

“I won’t,” Phil said. “I promise.”

His dad smiled at him. “Good.”

Their conversation drifted to other topics as they made their way through the darkness, the chill coating their exposed skin and reddening their cheeks and noses.

***

The definition of friend, according to Google, was this: “a person whom one knows and with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically exclusive of sexual or family relations.”

Well, thought Phil, if he used that definition, he was positively rolling in friends.

So, why didn't it _feel_ like he was?

Phil only had friends and family. He had never dated. He had never found anyone he particularly _wanted_ to date.

As such, the concept of friends had become incredibly important to him.

Friends were people he looked forward to hanging out with. They were the people Phil liked enough to want to hang out with them, and who liked Phil enough to want to hang out with him. They were the people who were less mentally taxing than the rest of the population.

Was he just being too picky with calling people his friend?

As a child and as a teenager, Phil had never been popular, but he had never been disliked, either. Though he had been bullied a little, most of the people around him were nice enough to not talk about him to his face, and so most of the meanness of humanity went over Phil's head.

He had a few people he hung out with in secondary school, like Trevor, Marcus, and Maisie, but they each had their own friends and girlfriends and such and so while Maisie might call Phil her best friend, Phil had never felt he was.

Phil was no one's favorite anything.

Except now … Now he had Dan. Now he had someone he wanted to talk to and who wanted to talk to him. Now, Phil had a number one, and Phil was Dan's number one.

The only people he had actually looked forward to hanging out with within the last month, Phil realized, were his family and Dan.

Phil leaned back against his pillows and looked towards his window, where he could see a sliver of night sky peeking in through the curtains.

Even though he was still getting close to Dan, Phil felt content. If he had Dan and his family, he didn't need anyone else.

Phil was oddly okay with this.

He scooted under his covers and closed his eyes.


	22. Chapter 22

After that weekend, Phil was more centered.

For the last few months, he realized, he had been lonely and miserable and he didn’t have to be. Those months of melting down and insecurity had been _exhausting,_ and Phil hated just how much he’d let himself go.

Letting it all out to Dan and his parents the last few days had been liberating, and Phil actually felt like he had finally talked enough to satisfy his mind for the time being. He felt like he had finally let as much out as possible and his mind was coming up dry for now.

Sure, basically losing Marcus had been hard. It had probably been the hardest thing Phil had had to deal with in the last few years and made even harder by the fact Phil didn’t know where he stood with Marcus. Their friendship was one Phil had tried hard at, put a lot of effort into, and to see it crumble away with barely a whimper had been hard.

But Phil now had Dan.

Better yet, Phil now had some semblance of peace of mind.

When he came back to campus late Sunday evening, he felt calm. He was done with crying, he was done with insecurity, and he was done with self-pitying.

If Marcus still wanted to be his friend, then great. Phil was here. But they weren’t best friends anymore, not unless Marcus made an effort to win Phil back. And Phil knew he’d have moments where he would want to cry again, where he would want to despair at the fact he had lost his best friend of seven years. But he could tell, somehow, that it wouldn’t be as bad as it had been before.

Phil had tried to keep their friendship together; Marcus had to be the one to patch it back up.

And if that didn’t happen? Then that was fine. Phil would live on.

It wasn’t the end of the world.

When he stepped back into his flat building, hamper in hand, he felt positively light, as if an enormous weight had been lifted and the old Phil—the Phil he liked, the Phil he always was, deep inside—was rearing his head once more and smiling so, so brightly.

***

Phil had barely returned to campus before Dan texted asking if he could come over and see Phil to see how his trip went.

Phil had sent back a _sure_ to Dan, and went back to unpacking.

He felt happy, despite being stuck back at uni for another two and a half weeks. “Happy" wasn't something he had really felt in a long while, and Phil hadn't realized just how much he missed the emotion. He also looked forward to seeing Dan in a little bit, which in and of itself was a foreign concept for Phil. 

With a hum, Phil located his iPod in a pocket of his backpack and carried it over to his little portable speakers, setting it up so that it played Owl City as he continued unpacking.

As he put his clothes away, he sang along to the lyrics, a grin mangling some of the words. _“We wrote a prelude to our own fairy tale, and bought a parachute at a church rummage sale, and with a mean sewing machine and miles of thread, we sewed the day above L.A. in navy and red…”_

Phil pulled his backpack closer to him and tugged his computer out of its pocket. _“We wound a race track through your mom's kitchen chairs and fought the shadows back down your dark basement stairs. I lit a match, then let it catch to light up the room, and then you yelled as we beheld an old maroon hot air balloon!”_

Phil stopped singing for a moment as he hunted around the bottom of his backpack for his charge cord, letting the music wash over him for a moment.

_I'll be out of my mind_

_And you'll be out of ideas pretty soon_

_So let's spend the afternoon in a cold hot air balloon_

_Leave your jacket behind_

_Lean out and touch the treetops over town_

_I can't wait_

_To kiss the ground_

_Wherever we touch back down_

Phil found the cord, hidden under some of his course books, and he leaned over to plug it into the wall, resuming his singing.

_“We drank the Great Lakes like cold lemonade and both got stomach aches sprawled out in the shade. So bored to death you held your breath and I tried not to yawn. You made my frown turn upside down and now my worries are gone…”_

“I like it,” Dan said.

Phil squeaked and whirled around, blinking at Dan, who was leaning against his door frame.

“Dan!” Phil yelped. “Huh, hi!”

Dan laughed. “Hi, Phil. No need to look so shocked. You did say I could come over, right?”

Phil blinked. “Um, yeah. Just thought it’d take you longer.”

“Hey, I’m not _that_ out of shape,” Dan laughed as he stepped into Phil’s room. “Besides, Ellery let me in again.”

“I need to get Ellery a fruit basket or something,” said Phil. Dan hummed in agreement as he needlessly shuffled some papers around on Phil’s desk.

“I like this music,” Dan said again. “Who sings it?”

The song had ended and another one had begun.

“Owl City. The guy who did _Fireflies._ ”

Dan’s face cleared. “Oh, yeah! I liked that song.”

“It’s a good one,” Phil agreed. “So many artists sing about pain and heartbreak, and he usually sings about … lighter stuff. Like, the wonder of the world and just how amazing it is to be alive. I guess … I just really appreciate being reminded of that.”

When he looked over at Dan, his friend was smiling softly.

“What?” Phil asked.

Dan tilted his head to the side. “I take it you had a good weekend?”

“It was exactly what I needed,” Phil said sincerely.

“Good,” Dan said.

There was a lull between their words, one that was comfortable and one Phil didn't feel the need to fill. Dan moved over to help him unpack, and together they finished putting everything away. Phil felt glad he had put his clothes away first. Much as he liked Dan, he didn’t want to flash him his pants.

They ended up sprawled across Phil's bed, pressed up against the comforter. They told each other about their weekends, and Phil didn't mind telling Dan about how his was essentially filled with laughter and breakdowns. He didn't tell Dan _everything,_ but it wasn't something he was worrying about just then.

Dan, apparently, could see some sort of change in Phil, and halfway through Phil telling him about how his mum spoke to him he reached over and squeezed Phil's hand.

Phil smiled at him, squeezed back.

“My weekend wasn't nearly as exciting,” Dan admitted when Phil asked. “Literally attempted some homework before ignoring it and playing Halo for, like, twenty hours.”

Phil snorted. “Of course you did.”

“Hey!” Dan whacked Phil's arm lightly. “Are you implying I'm not social?”

“Yes.”

“Rude, but right,” Dan laughed. “Hey, want to grab some dinner?”

“Is that even a question?” Phil asked as he grabbed his wallet and his coat.

When he looked over at Dan, it was so see a fond, contented expression on his friend's face. The sight made Phil feel warm and happy.

They ended up at a Chinese place after Phil cited the desire to stretch his legs after being in the car despite Dan’s grumblings about takeout. Nevertheless, Dan gamely followed him out the door and into the night.

“Do you believe in magic?” asked Dan.

Phil blinked.

Dan shrugged, and Phil thought he saw a hint of a blush. “Just answer the question, Lester.”

“Alright, alright,” Phil said, rolling his eyes playfully. “I think there's a lot we don't understand. I don't … I mean, part of me wants to really believe, you know? That magic exists, just like in the stories. The other part … I don't know. I mean, science can't account for a lot of things in this world, so what's that other part? Is that magic? Is it science? Is it something we haven't discovered yet? A nameless thing we can't understand because we haven't labeled it and related it to concepts we do know, maybe.” Phil cut himself off, biting the inside of his cheeks so he wouldn’t keep rambling. “Sorry, that was long and unnecessary. What about you? Do you believe?”

Thought his spiel, Dan had walked beside him, quietly listening. Now, he answered, “No, I don't. But I don't disagree there's a lot we don't understand that _could_ be magic. I just think it's unlikely. And don't worry about it. I like hearing you speak.”

No one really wanted to listen to Phil's ramblings. Not Marcus, not the various other friends who'd come and gone over the years. He always talked in stupid little circles about things others didn't care about. This, though, this was nice. Dan spoke and acted like he _wanted_ to hear Phil's thoughts, however random and incoherent they might be.

He knocked their shoulders together and kept walking, talking about nothing and everything and the universe.

***

The next time Phil saw Marcus, it was the next day, Monday.

Phil had just slipped out of his room to use the bathroom when he saw Marcus packing his backpack at the dining table. Phil slunk into the bathroom, trying to make as little noise as possible so that he wouldn’t disturb Marcus.

At this point, Phil wasn’t sure if Marcus wasn’t talking to him because he thought Phil was mad at him due to how Phil had been acting around him, or if Marcus just didn’t want to talk to Phil.

He had never claimed to be a good judge of people. He struggled understanding everyone around him, even his family sometimes.

Marcus was gone by the time Phil emerged from the bathroom, and Phil sighed to himself before once more retreating to his room.

The day passed by with Dan’s soft laugh as Phil made a joke before their class started and long discussions about Frankenstein in his Myth and Culture class. Phil forgot about Marcus and the weird tension their relationship had gained over the last few months until later that night as he sat down at his desk to study for an upcoming exam.

The soft rapping on the door sounded through the room at about nine PM. Phil, removing a single earbud, sighed as quietly as possible.

Phil knew who it was, and even as he let out a, “Come in,” his stomach clenched with anxious anticipation.

When Marcus pushed open the door, peering through the crack, something twisted up in Phil’s chest. He wasn't sure, all of a sudden, if he was more happy to see Marcus or upset.

“Hey, Phil,” Marcus said quietly, closing the door behind him. He was dressed to go out and study with a jacket pinned in place by a backpack strap. “How was your weekend?”

Phil didn't particularly want to tell Marcus about his weekend, but just because he was upset at Marcus didn't mean he needed to rock the boat. So, Phil pushed away his upsets and said, “Just hung out with my family.”

Marcus gave Phil a smile. It didn't feel genuine to Phil. It felt more like Marcus was indulging Phil. Phil didn't know if that was Marcus’s emotions or his own anger coloring the smile in shades of disgruntled red, but he kept quiet and tried to ignore the way his hair bristled.

“That's good to hear,” Marcus said.

“How was your weekend?”

Another smile, small, but more real. “Good.”

“Did you enjoy the concert?”

“We didn't end up going,” Marcus said. “I just hung out with my family.”

“How are they?”

Phil didn't know Marcus’s family very well. Marcus didn't share about his life as much as Phil did. Normally, this didn't bother Phil in the slightest—Phil wasn't entitled to know about Marcus's life—but now it just seemed to highlight just how little Marcus seemed to actually consider him a best friend.

“They're good,” Marcus said. “Got to hang out with my little sister. She's taking her school on by storm.”

“As you said she would.” Phil smiled, happy for Marcus’s well-placed pride and for the younger sister he'd only met a handful of times.

There was an awkward pause, and the usual need to fill up the space, to make Marcus _stay,_ welled up in Phil and he said, “It was good to go home. I’ve … I’ve been having a rough time.”

His heart was beating loudly in his ears as Marcus looked down and said. “I know.”

“No, you don’t,” Phil said before he could stop himself.

He saw surprise flicker in Marcus’s eyes and Marcus corrected himself. “I mean, I’ve seen you’ve been having a rough time. I’m glad you got to go home.”

Instead of making Phil feel better, Phi simply felt worse. Marcus had seen and…

“I also saw the Isle of Man trip was off,” Marcus said. “Any reason why?”

_My mum sent that text out a week ago, and you ask_ now?

Phil kept that thought to himself. He said instead, “Well, we’re all upset.”

“What, about the trip being canceled?”

Phil wanted to shout at Marcus, to curse him and shake him because _Marcus was supposed to be Phil’s best friend_ and he didn’t even know anything about Phil’s life anymore.

“No,” Phil said, trying to keep the snap out of his voice. “Because of Ellie.”

“Ah.” Marcus rocked on his toes. “Right.”

“We went there two weeks ago to evict her.”

“And?”

“And what? She left,” Phil said flatly.

“Good.” Marcus tried to sound cheerful. “How … How was the place?”

Phil stared at him. “It was trash. There was trash and poop and pee everywhere and she was just sitting there…”

Marcus winced. “That sounds bad.”

Phil shrugged. “We’re cleaning it up. But we … We don’t really feel in the mood to go on holiday anymore.”

“Well, maybe things happen for a reason,” Marcus said. “What with my new job. I was thinking about working over the winter hols…”

Phil tuned Marcus out, numb, staring at his friend and barely taking any words in.

“Anyway,” Marcus said, bringing Phil out of his thoughts. “I better be off.”

“Right.”

Marcus held his arms out for a hug and Phil went over to him because he always did and as he leaned into Marcus, he didn’t hug back, because he didn’t think he’d ever let go and right now he didn’t want to see Marcus.

“Well,” Marcus said, stepping back. “We’ll hang out sometime soon, yeah? You let me know.”

“ _You_ let me know,” Phil retorted.

Marcus blinked. “What?”

“Whenever I make plans, they don’t happen,” Phil said. “You’re the one with the new girlfriend. You make it work. I don’t care if it’s with Erika or not. But you figure it out.”

Blinking, Marcus said, “I didn’t know you were okay with Erika.”

_You know what they say about assuming things…_

“She’s nice.”

“She is. Okay. I’ll bare that in mind.”

“Great.”

“Great,” Marcus said. “So, uh, I’ll see you later?”

“Yep.”

Marcus was frowning now. “Hey, cheer up, Phil.”

Phil didn’t feel like smiling. In fact, he felt rather like crying, and that just made him more upset, because why did he have to be so _weak?_

“It’s not going to happen,” he said. “I have nothing to be cheerful about.”

“Hey.” Marcus smiled weakly, trying to draw one out of Phil. “Cheer up?”

Phil gave him a tired look and sat down at his desk, turning his back to Marcus and going back to studying for the exam. He didn’t raise his head as he heard Marcus quietly leave the room, merely tugged his earbuds closer, turned up the music, and drowned out his life.

***

As Phil climbed into bed that night, he shot Dan off a text.

_**Phil 12:34 AM**  
Exam tomorrow -_- also, marcus came into talk. Feeling upset._

He didn’t get an immediate response. He lay in bed in the dark feeling overly warm. Curtis must have turned up the heat _again._ Why was Phil the one who had to compromise? Why was Phil the one who always had to bend?

He hated living here.

What even was the point, he thought as he turned over and scrunched his pillow into a different shape, of living together when Marcus didn’t even live here anymore?

He fell asleep almost thirty minutes later when he realized Dan wasn’t going to reply.

It was a restless sleep, and when Phil woke up, he felt more tired than before.

***

_**Dan 12:38 PM**  
how did the exam go?_

_**Phil 12:50 PM**  
You keep texting me when I’m in class_

_**Dan 12:50 PM**  
sorry. how’d it go?_

_**Phil 12:51 PM**  
Good, I think. Lunch?_

_**Dan 12:52 PM**  
yess _

Phil smiled and tucked his phone in his pocket as he moved through the halls of the building and out into the quad. The watery autumn sun splattered through the air and across the grass, and Phil tilted his head back to catch some of the light as he made his way down the steps and towards the on-campus cafeteria.

“Phil!” Dan called out, coming from another building with a bright grin on his face.

“Hey,” Phil said, smiling and pausing slightly so Dan could join him. “How was class?”

“Is there someone in your department I could talk to about switching and stuff? Just … Just to ask some questions.”

Phil thought for a moment.

“There’s Bernhardt,” he said. “She’s a good professor. I don’t have her this semester, but I could help you send an email to her.”

Dan brightened at that, and for the rest of the walk they nattered about nothing and everything, and Phil felt almost like he could relax in another person’s presence.

“Okay,” Dan said, setting his tray down at a table tucked away in a secluded corner. “Spill.”

“Spill what?”

“You texted me at twelve AM,” Dan reminded him. “About Marcus and the fact you think you’re angry. So, spill.”

Biting his lip, Phil scanned the area around them, though he knew Marcus wasn’t around. “I just.” Phil wasn't looking at Dan. He looked off into the distance and tried hard not to think about the fact that he was talking about Marcus behind Marcus’s back _again._

Dan watched him patiently, letting Phil collect his thoughts.

“It's just … Marcus said he'd seen me struggling,” Phil finally said. “And beside the odd ‘Are you okay?’ he never tried to figure out what was wrong with me.”

“He probably expected you to tell him,” said Dan quietly.

“He's hasn't been here,” Phil said, and the words lay heavy on his tongue, bitter. “He's hasn't been here and I can't make this friendship work if it's only one-sided.”

“He said he wanted to hang out, right?”

Phil squeezed his eyes shut. “It's been months, Dan. Months. And maybe it's not really all that long objectively, but…”

“But so much has been going on it feels like longer,” Dan finished.

Phil let out a breath. “Yeah. But he's seen me struggling and he never made any serious effort to understand what's been happening. If it was Marcus suffering, I'd be asking and hanging out with him and just … trying to figure out what I can do to make it better. And he's done n-none of that.”

Phil felt like crying, but he'd done enough of that recently. He was such a mess, bleeding his stupid, stupid emotions over everyone. No one should have to hear his tiring thoughts, yet Phil couldn't keep them in…

But he’d been doing better recently, he reminded himself. He’d been more centered, more at peace. And, looking at Dan’s open, kind expression, Phil felt himself relaxing, grounding himself at the little table where it was just the two of them.

“Sorry,” he said out loud. “You’re probably sick of me talking about this.”

“Hey.” Dan's expression was serious, and he held Phil’s gaze. “You're fine, okay, Phil? Some people work things out differently, and sometimes that means they talk it out. I'm really, honestly okay listening to you.”

“I just feel bad,” Phil admitted. “You keep hearing the same thing over and over again and I just wish I could…”

_Rip my own throat out._

Phil didn't say that out loud. He kept the sentence hanging and looked down at his lap. He tried to think of something more positive, but the words pressed against the back of his teeth and slid across the surface of his tongue until they spilled out.

“I miss Marcus,” he said softly. “But I'm so angry at him right now.”

Short, succinct words weighted by the emotions behind them. Dan heard all the unspoken emotions in those words and leaned over and bumped his shoulder into Phil’s.

“I know,” Dan said, his tone and posture sad and drooping. “I know.”

***

Even though Phil wasn’t sure if he was happy with Marcus or not, he didn’t want Marcus to think Phil was angry with him.

So, when Marcus walked into the flat later that night as Phil made his dinner, Phil’s first reaction was to say hello. He didn’t, though, just gave his friend a tight smile and went back to cooking.

“Hey, Phil.”

If Marcus noticed anything off with Phil, he didn’t mention it. He walked to his room, turned on the light, and started cleaning it.

Phil cooked his meal, retreated to his room, and ate it with some comedy talk show host chatting in the background.

His mind felt numb, but once Phil wrapped up, he took his dirty dishes back to the kitchen and began washing them.

“So, how was your day?” he thought he heard Marcus ask.

“What?” he called over the stream of water.

“Your day, how was it?” Marcus came out of his room and began rummaging around the sink, looking for something.

“Good.” Phil didn’t want to add more, but at the same time, he was aware he was acting abnormal, and he didn’t want Marcus to ask questions—he didn’t think he could deal with concern when all he wanted to do was blow up.

Instead, Phil took a deep breath, walked over to Marcus’s room where Marcus had once again disappeared into, and hovered at the doorway.

“Hey,” Marcus said, glancing up at Phil as he picked clothes up off the ground and placed them in a duffle bag. “You ready for break?”

“Yes,” Phil said.

Marcus nodded sympathetically. “I can tell.”

Phil bit back any unkind words which rose up. Marcus didn’t need to hear them, didn’t need to know that Phil was so achingly upset. “Yeah.”

_If only you were stronger…_

Marcus asked Phil about his family—how his mother was doing, what his father was up to, how his older brother was doing…

Phil answered each of the questions, keeping each answer short and only adding on additional thoughts when his own head and the silence between them got too loud.

_You’re overthinking, you’re too sensitive, you’re just so weak…_

Phil was each of those. But he could misdirect Marcus. Marcus didn’t need to know that the source of most of Phil’s pain was Marcus himself.

Phil couldn’t bear to put that on his once-best friend. He couldn’t bear seeing how Marcus would react to such a statement—would he laugh it off, tell Phil to man up, get angry and storm off?

He didn’t know. He kept quiet.

Finally, Phil moved in the direction of his room.

“Heading off?” Marcus asked. “To bed?”

Phil stared at him. “It’s too early for that.”

“Right.” Marcus shook himself. “Right. Well, uh, have…” Marcus trail off, perhaps unknowing if the ending of his sentence was appropriate.

“I will have fun,” Phil said, before adding under his breath, “I always do.”

“I just wasn’t sure what it is you do in there alone is fun,” Marcus said.

Phil closed his eyes and fled into the sanctuary of his room, where he could be by himself without the confusing tangle of messy ideas of others fingerprinting their smudges across his brain.

So maybe Phil had been hasty to think one weekend away had cured him. Phil might be more grounded and more centered, but he was guaranteed to have bad days, living with the source of his pain and frustration as he was.

He just _missed_ Marcus so _Goddamned_ much...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter was written concurrently with some of these events with the friend who inspired Marcus. A lot of what we're delving into was my form of journaling--a lot of the back and forth between Dan and Phil was me figuring out my own emotions as some of these events or events similar to these were happening. Ahhhh it's so hard reading all this over again D:


End file.
